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 03
 
 THE 
 
 FOUNDATIONS OF BELIEF 
 
 BEIWG 
 
 NOTES INTRODUCTORY TO THE 
 STUDY OF THEOLOGY
 
 J- 
 
 THE 
 
 FOUNDATIONS OF BELIEF 
 
 BEING 
 
 NOTES INTRODUCTORY TO THE 
 STUDY OF THEOLOGY 
 
 BY THE 
 
 RIGHT HON. ARTHUR JAMES BALFOUR 
 
 AUTHOR OF "a DEFENCE OF PHILOSOPHIC DOUBT." ETC. 
 
 ■9 3 > j'» 
 
 -. V J * 3 
 
 O 1 ? O f 
 
 ■>■»,« *> 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 LONGMANS, GREEN, AND CO. 
 
 AND LONDON 
 
 1895 
 
 All rights reserved
 
 Copyright, 1894, by 
 LONGMANS, GREEN, AND CO. 
 
 » c c * 
 
 ♦ , « t «, 
 
 « « « c 
 
 
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 • • • • 
 
 • • • 
 
 t.". •' .•. • . 
 
 • « • 
 . « • • 
 
 
 ft « > 
 
 « • . • 
 
 • • « 
 
 First Edition, Febrhary, 1895 
 Eepkinted March, April, and May, 1895 
 
 TROW DrRECTOHV 
 
 PRINTING AND BOOKBrNDINQ COMPANY 
 
 NEW YORK
 
 NOTE 
 
 Part II., Chapter II., of the following Essay ap- 
 peared in 1893 in the October number of 'Mind.' 
 Part I., Chapter I., was delivered as a Lecture to 
 the Ethical Society of Cambridge in the spring of 
 1893, and subsequently appeared in the July number 
 of the ' International Journal of Ethics ' in the pres- 
 ent year. Though published separately, both these 
 chapters were originall}' written for the present vol- 
 ume. The references to ' Philosophic Doubt' which 
 occur from time to time in the Notes, especially at 
 the beginning of Part II., are to the only edition of 
 that book which has as yet been published. It is 
 now out of print, and copies are not easy to procure ; 
 but if I have time to prepare a new edition, care will 
 be taken to prevent any confusion which might arise 
 from a different numbering of the chapters. 
 
 I desire to acknowledge the kindness of those 
 who have read through the proof-sheets of these 
 Notes and made suggestions upon them. This 
 somewhat ungrateful labour was undertaken by my 
 friends, the Rev. E. S. Talbot, Professor Andrew 
 Scth, the Rev. James Robertson, and last, but very
 
 ■VI NOTE 
 
 far from least, my brother, Mr. G. W. Balfour, M.P., 
 and my brother-in-law, Professor Henry Sidgvvick. 
 None of these gentlemen are, of course, in any way 
 responsible for the views herein advocated, with 
 which some ot them, indeed, by no means agree. I 
 am the more beholden to them for the assistance 
 they have been good enough to render me. 
 
 A. J. B. 
 
 Whittingehame, September 1894.
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Preliminary . . i 
 
 PART I 
 
 SOME CONSEQUENCES OF BELIEF 
 
 CHAl'lER 
 
 I. Naturalism and Ethics ii 
 
 II. Naturallsm and /Esthetic 33 
 
 III. Naturalism and Reason 67 
 
 IV. Summary and Conclusion of Part I . . . 77 
 
 PART 11 
 
 some reasons for belief 
 I. The Phm.osoi'hic Basis of Naturalism . . 89 
 
 II. IDKALIS.M; AFTER SOME RECENT ENGLISH WRIT- 
 INGS 137 
 
 III. Philosophy and Raitonalism . . . .163 
 i\'. RATioN.\Lisr Okiiiodoxv 182
 
 viii CONTENTS 
 
 PART III 
 
 SOME CAUSES OF BELIEF 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 I. Causes of Experience i93 
 
 II. Authority and Reason 202 
 
 PART IV 
 
 suggestions towards a provisional philosophy 
 
 I. The Groundwork 241 
 
 II. Beliefs and Formulas 259 
 
 III. Beliefs, Formulas, and Realities. . . . 271 
 
 IV. ' Ultimate Scientific Ideas' .... 288 
 V. Science and Theology 298 
 
 VI. Suggestions towards a Provisional Unifica- 
 tion 330
 
 PRELIMINARY 
 
 As its title imports, the following Essay is intended 
 to serve as an Introduction to the Study of Theol- 
 ogy. The word * Introduction,' however, is ambig- 
 uous ; and in order that the reader may be as little 
 disappointed as possible with the contents of the 
 book, the sense in which I here use it must be first 
 explained. Sometimes, by an Introduction to a sub- 
 ject is meant a brief survey of its leading principles 
 — a first initiation, as it were, into its methods and 
 results. For such a task, however, in the case of 
 Theology I have no qualifications. With the growth 
 of knowledge Theology has enlarged its borders 
 until it has included subjects about which even the 
 most accomplished theologian of past ages did not 
 greatly concern himself. To the Patristic, Dog- 
 matic, and Controversial learning which has always 
 been required, the theologian of to-day must add 
 knowledge at first hand of the complex historical, 
 antiquarian, and critical problems presented by the 
 Old and New Testaments, and of the vast and daily 
 increasing literature which has grown up around 
 them. He must have a sufficient acquaintance with 
 the comparative history of religions; and in addi- 
 tion to all this, he must be competent to deal with
 
 2 PRELIMINARY 
 
 those scientific and philosophical questions which 
 have a more profound and permanent bearing on 
 Theology even than the results of critical and his- 
 torical scholarship. 
 
 Whether any single individual is fully compe- 
 tent either to acquire or successfully to manipulate 
 so formidable an apparatus of learning, I do not 
 know. But in any case I am very far indeed from 
 being even among that not inconsiderable number 
 who are qualified to put the reader in the way of 
 profitably cultivating some portion of this vast and 
 always increasing field of research. The following 
 pages, therefore, scarcely claim to deal with the sub- 
 stance of Theology at all. They are in the narrow- 
 est sense of the word an ' introduction ' to it. They 
 deal for the most part with preliminaries ; and it is 
 only towards the end of the volume, where the Intro- 
 duction begins insensibly to merge into that which it 
 is designed to introduce, that purely theological doc- 
 trines are mentioned, except by way of illustration. 
 
 Although what follows might thus be fitly de- 
 scribed as ' Considerations preliminary to a study of 
 Theology,' I do not think the subjects dealt with 
 are less important on that account. For, in truth, 
 the decisive battles of Theology are fought beyond 
 its frontiers. It is not over purely religious contro- 
 versies that the cause of Religion is lost or won. 
 The judgments we shall form upon its special prob- 
 lems are commonly settled for us by our general 
 mode of looking at the Universe ; and this again, in
 
 PRELIMINARY 3 
 
 SO far as it is determined by arguments at all, is 
 determined by arguments of so wide a scope that 
 they can seldom be claimed as more nearly con- 
 cerned with Theology than with the philosophy of 
 Science or of Ethics. 
 
 My object, then, is to recommend a particular 
 way of looking at the World - problems, which, 
 whether we like it or not, we are compelled to face, 
 I wish, if I can, to lead the reader up to a point of 
 view whence the small fragments of the Infinite 
 Whole, of which we are able to obtain a glimpse, 
 may appear to us in their true relative proportions. 
 This is, therefore, no work of ' Apologetics ' in the 
 ordinary sense of that word. Theological doctrines 
 are not taken up in turn and defended from current 
 objections; nor is there any endeavour here made 
 specifically to solve the ' doubts ' or allay the ' diffi- 
 culties ' which in this, as in every other, age perplex 
 the minds of a certain number of religious persons. 
 Yet, as I think that perhaps the greater number of 
 these doubts and difficulties would never even pre- 
 sent themselves in that character were it not for a 
 certain superficiality and one-sidedness in our habit- 
 ual manner of considering the wider problems of 
 belief, I cannot help entertaining the hope that by 
 what is here said the work of the Apologist proper 
 may indirectly be furthered. 
 
 It is a natural, if not an absolutely necessary 
 consequence of this plan, that the subjects alluded 
 to in the following pages are, as a rule, more secular
 
 4 PRELIMINARY 
 
 than the title of the book might perhaps at first 
 susfarest, and also that the treatment of some of 
 them has been brief even to meagreness. If the 
 reader is tempted to complain of the extreme con- 
 ciseness with which some topics of the greatest im- 
 portance are touched on, and the apparent irrele- 
 vance with which others have been introduced, 1 
 hope he will reserve his judgment until he has read 
 to the end, should his patience hold out so long. If 
 he then thinks that the ' particular way of looking 
 at the World-problems ' which this book is intended 
 to recommend is not rendered clearer by any por- 
 tion of what has been written, I shall be open to his 
 criticism ; but not otherwise. What I have tried to 
 do is not to write a monograph, or a series of mono- 
 graphs, upon Theology, but to delineate, and, if 
 possible, to recommend, a certain attitude of mind ; 
 and 1 hope that in carrying out this less ambitious 
 scheme I have put in few touches that were super- 
 fluous and left out none that were necessary. 
 
 If it be asked, ' For whom is this book intended?' 
 I answer, that it is intended for the general body of 
 readers interested in such subjects rather than for 
 the specialist in Philosophy. I do not, of course, 
 mean that I have either desired or been able to 
 avoid questions which in essence are strictly philo- 
 sophical. Such an attempt would have been wholly 
 absurd. But no knowledge either of the history or 
 the technicalities of Philosophy is assumed in the 
 reader, nor do I believe that there is any train of
 
 PRELIMINARY 5 
 
 thought here suggested which, if he thinks it worth 
 his while, he will have the least difficulty in follow- 
 ing. He may, and very likely will, find objection 
 both to the substance of my arguments and their 
 form. But I shall be disappointed if, in addition to 
 their other deficiencies, he finds them unintelligible 
 or even obscure.^ 
 
 There is one more point to be explained before 
 these prefatory remarks are brought to a conclusion. 
 In order that the views here advocated may be seen 
 in the highest relief, it is convenient to exhibit them 
 against the background of some other and contrast- 
 ed system of thought. What system shall that be ? 
 In Germany the philosophies of Kant and his suc- 
 cessors may be (I know not whether they are) 
 matters of such common knowledge that they fit- 
 tingly supply a standard of reference, by the aid of 
 which the relative positions of other and more or 
 less differing systems may be conveniently deter- 
 mined. As to whether this state of things, if it 
 anywhere exists, is desirable or not, I offer no opinion. 
 But I am very sure that it does not at present exist 
 in any English-speaking community, and probably 
 never will, until the ideas of these speculative giants 
 are throughout rethought by Englishmen, and 
 reproduced in a shape which ordinary Englishmen 
 will consent to assimilate. Until this occurs Tran- 
 scendental Idealism must continue to be what it is 
 
 ' These observations must not be taken as applyinjr to Part II., 
 Cliapter II., which the general reader is recommended to omit.
 
 6 PRELIMINARY 
 
 now — the intellectual possession of a small minority 
 of philosophical specialists. Philosophy cannot, 
 under existing conditions, become, like Science, ab- 
 solutely international. There is in matters specu- 
 lative, as in matters poetical, a certain amount of 
 natural protection for the home -producer, which 
 commentators and translators seem unable alto- 
 gether to overcome. 
 
 Though, therefore, I have devoted a chapter to 
 the consideration of Transcendental Idealism as rep- 
 resented in some recent English writings, it is not 
 with overt or tacit reference to that system that I 
 have arranged the material of the following Essay. 
 I have, on the contrary, selected a system with which 
 I am in much less sympathy, but which under many 
 names numbers a formidable following, and is in 
 reality the only system which ultimately profits by 
 any defeats which Theology may sustain, or which 
 may be counted on to flood the spaces from which 
 the tide of Religion has receded. Agnosticism, 
 Positivism, Empiricism, have all been used more or 
 less correctly to describe this scheme of thought ; 
 though in the following pages, for reasons with 
 which it is not necessary to trouble the reader, the 
 term which I shall commonly employ is Naturalism. 
 But whatever the name selected, the thing itself is 
 sufficiently easy to describe. For its leading doctrines 
 are that we may know * phenomena ' ^ and the laws 
 
 ' I feel that explanation, and perhaps apology, is due for this use 
 of the word ' phenomena.' In its proper sense the term implies, I
 
 PRELIMINARY 7 
 
 by which they are connected, but nothing more. 
 ' More ' there may or may not be ; but if it exists 
 we can never apprehend it : and whatever the 
 World may be ' in its reality ' (supposing such an 
 expression to be otherwise than meaningless), the 
 World for us, the World with which alone we are 
 concerned, or of which alone we can have any 
 cognisance, is that World which is revealed to us 
 through perception, and which is the subject-matter 
 of the Natural Sciences. Here, and here only, are 
 we on firm ground. Here, and here only, can we 
 discover anything which deserves to be described as 
 Knowledge. Here, and here only, may we profit- 
 suppose, that which appears, as distinguished from something, pre- 
 sumably more real, which does not appear. I neither use it as carry- 
 ing this metaphysical implication, nor do I restrict it to things which 
 appear, or even to things which f^wA/ appear to beings endowed with 
 senses like ours. The ether, for instance, though it is impossible that 
 we should ever know it except by its effects, I should call a phenom- 
 enon. The coagulation of nebular meteors into suns and planets I 
 should call a phenomenon, though nobody may have existed to whom 
 it could appear. I^oughly speaking, things and events, the general 
 subject-matter of Natural Science, is what I endeavour to indicate by 
 a term for which, as thus used, there is, unfortunately, no substitute, 
 however little the meaning which I give to it can be etymologically 
 justified. 
 
 While I am on the subject of definitions, it may be as well to say 
 that, generally speaking, I distinguish between Philosophy and Meta- 
 physics. To Philosophy I give an cpistcnioloi^ical significance. I 
 regard it as the systematic exposition of our grounds of knowledge. 
 Thus, the philosophy of Religion or the philosophy of Science would 
 mean the theoretic justification of our theological or scientific beliefs, 
 liy Metaphysics, on the other hand, I usually mean the knowledge 
 that we have, or suppo.se ourselves to have, respecting realities which 
 are not phenomenal, e.g. God, and the Soul.
 
 8 PRELIMINARY 
 
 ably exercise our reason or gather the fruits of 
 Wisdom. 
 
 Such, in rough outline, is Naturalism. My first 
 task will be the preparatory one of examining certain 
 of its consequences in various departments of hu- 
 man thought and emotion ; and to this in the next 
 four chapters I proceed to devote myself.
 
 PART I 
 
 SOME CONSEQUENCES OF BELIEF
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 NATURALISM AND ETHICS 
 
 The two subjects on which the professors of every 
 creed, theological and anti-theological, seem least 
 anxious to differ, are the general substance of the 
 Moral Law, and the character of the sentiments 
 with which it should be regarded. That it is 
 worthy of all reverence ; that it demands our 
 ungrudging submission ; and that we owe it not 
 merely obedience, but love — these are common- 
 places which the preachers of all schools vie with 
 each other in proclaiming. And they are certainly 
 right. Morality is more than a bare code of laws, 
 than a catalogue raisonn^ of things to be done or 
 left undone. Were it otherwise, we must change 
 something more important than the mere customa- 
 ry language of exhortation. The old ideals of the 
 world would have to be uprooted, and no new ones 
 could spring up and flourish in their stead ; the very 
 soil on which they grew would be sterilised, and the 
 phrases in which all that has hitherto been regard- 
 ed as best and noblest in human life has been ex- 
 pressed, nay, the words- 'best' and ' noblest ' them-
 
 12 NATURALISM AND ETHICS 
 
 selves, would become as foolish and unmeaning as 
 the incantation of a forgotten superstition. 
 
 This unanimity, familiar though it be, is surely- 
 very remarkable. And it is the more remarkable 
 because the unanimity prevails only as to con- 
 clusions, and is accompanied by the widest diver- 
 gence of opinion with regard to the premises on 
 which these conclusions are supposed to be founded. 
 Nothing but habit could blind us to the strangeness 
 of the fact that the man who believes that morality 
 is based on a priori principles, and the man who 
 believes it to be based on the commands of God, 
 the transcendentalist, the theologian, the mystic, 
 and the evolutionist, should be pretty well at 
 one both as to what morality teaches, and as to 
 the sentiments with which its teaching should be 
 regarded. 
 
 It is not my business in this place to examine 
 the Philosophy of Morals, or to find an answer to 
 the charge which this suspicious harmony of opinion 
 among various schools of moralists appears to 
 suggest, namely, that in their speculations they have 
 taken current morality for granted, and have squared 
 their proofs to their conclusions, and not their con- 
 clusions to their proofs. I desire now rather to 
 direct the reader's attention to certain questions 
 relating to the origin of ethical systems, not to their 
 justification ; to the natural history of morals, not to 
 its philosophy ; to the place which the moral law 
 occupies in the general chain of causes and effects.
 
 NATURALISM AND ETHICS 1 3 
 
 not to the nature of its claim on the unquestioning 
 obedience of mankind. 1 am aware, of course, that 
 many persons have been, and are, of opinion that 
 these two sets of questions are not merely related, 
 but identical ; that the validity of a command 
 depends only on the source from which it springs ; 
 and that in the investigation into the character and 
 authority of this source consists the principal busi- 
 ness of the moral philosopher. I am not concerned 
 here to controvert this theory, though, as thus 
 stated, I do not agree with it. It will be sufficient 
 if I lay down two propositions of a much less 
 dubious character: — (i) That, practically, human 
 beings being what they are, no moral code can be 
 effective which does not inspire, in those who are 
 asked to obey it, emotions of reverence ; and (2) that, 
 practically, the capacity of any code to excite this or 
 any other elevated emotion cannot be wholly inde- 
 pendent of the origin from which those who accept 
 that code suppose it to emanate.^ 
 
 Now what, according to the naturalistic creed, is 
 the origin of the generally accepted, or, indeed, of any 
 other possible, moral law? What position does it 
 occupy in the great web of interdependent phenom- 
 ena by which the knowable * Whole ' is on this 
 hypothesis constituted ? The answer is plain : as 
 
 ' These are statements, it will be noted, not relating- to ethics 
 proper. They have nothini,'^ to do either with the contents of the 
 moral law or with its validity ; and if we are to class them as be- 
 longing to any special department of knowledge at all, it is to psy- 
 chology or anthropology that they should in strictness be assigned.
 
 14 NATURALISM AND ETHICS 
 
 life is but a petty episode in the history of the 
 universe; as feeling is an attribute of only a frac- 
 tion of things that live, so moral sentiments and the 
 apprehension of moral rules are found in but an 
 insignificant minority of things that feel. They are 
 not, so to speak, among the necessities of Nature ; no 
 great spaces are marked out for their accommodation; 
 were they to vanish to-morrow, the great machine 
 would move on with no noticeable variation ; the 
 sum of realities would not suffer sensible diminution ; 
 the organic world itself would scarcely mark the 
 change. A few highly developed mammals, and 
 chiefest among these man, would lose instincts and 
 beliefs which have proved of considerable value in 
 the struggle for existence, if not between individuals, 
 at least between tribes and species. But put it at 
 the highest, we can say no more than that there 
 would be a great diminution of human happiness, 
 that civilisation would become difficult or impossible, 
 and that the ' higher ' races might even succumb and 
 disappear. 
 
 These are considerations which to the 'higher' 
 races themselves may seem not unimportant, how- 
 ever trifling to the universe at large. But let it be 
 noted that every one of these propositions can be 
 asserted with equal or greater assurance of all the 
 bodily appetites, and of many of the vulgarest forms 
 of desire and ambition. On most of the processes, in- 
 deed, by which consciousness and life are maintained 
 in the individual and perpetuated in the race we are
 
 NATURALISM AND ETHICS 1$ 
 
 never consulted ; of their intimate character we are 
 for the most part totally ignorant, and no one is in 
 any case asked to consider them with any other 
 emotion than that of enlightened curiosity. But in 
 the few and simple instances in which our co-opera- 
 tion is required, it is obtained through the stimulus 
 supplied b}' appetite and disgust, pleasure and pain, 
 instinct, reason, and morality ; and it is hard to see, 
 on the naturalistic h3'^pothesis, whence any one of 
 these various natural agents is to derive a dignity or 
 a consideration not shared by all the others, why 
 morality should be put above appetite, or reason 
 above pleasure. 
 
 It may, perhaps, be replied that the sentiments 
 with which we choose to regard any set of actions 
 or motives do not require special justification, that 
 there is no disputing about this any more than about 
 other questions of * taste,' and that, as a matter of 
 fact, the persons who take a strictly naturalistic view 
 of man and of the universe are often the loudest 
 and not the least sincere in the homage they pay to 
 the ' majesty of the moral law.' This is, no doubt, 
 perfectly true ; but it does not meet the real diffi- 
 culty. I am not contending that sentiments of the 
 kind referred to may not be, and are not, frequently 
 entertained by persons of all shades of philosophical 
 or theological opinion. My point is, that in the case 
 of those holding the naturalistic creed the sentiments 
 and the creed are antagonistic ; and that the more 
 clearly the creed is grasped, the more thoroughly
 
 1 6 NATURALISM AND ETHICS 
 
 the intellect is saturated with its essential teaching, 
 the more certain are the sentiments thus violently 
 and unnaturally associated with it to languish or to 
 die. 
 
 For not onl}^ does there seem to be no ground, 
 from the point of view of biology, for drawing a 
 distinction in favour of any of the processes, physio- 
 logical or psychological, by which the individual or 
 the race is benefited ; not only are we bound to 
 consider the coarsest appetites, the most calculating 
 selfishness, and the most devoted heroism, as all 
 sprung from analogous causes and all evolved for 
 similar objects, but we can hardly doubt that the 
 august sentiments which cling to the ideas of duty 
 and sacrifice are nothing better than a device of 
 Nature to trick us into the performance of altruistic 
 actions.^ The working ant expends its life in labour- 
 ing, with more than maternal devotion, for a prog- 
 eny not its own, and, so far as the race of ants is 
 concerned, doubtless it does well. Instinct, the in- 
 herited impulse to follow a certain course with no 
 developed consciousness of its final goal, is here the 
 instrument selected by Nature to attain her ends. 
 But in the case of man, more flexible if less certain 
 methods have to be emplo)'ed. Does conscience, 
 in bidding us to do or to refrain, speak with an 
 authority from which there seems no appeal? Does 
 
 ' It is scarcely necessary to state that in following the precedent 
 set by Darwin I do not wish to suggest that Biology necessarily is 
 teleological. Naturalism of course cannot be.
 
 NATURALISM AND ETHICS 1/ 
 
 our blood tingle at the narrative of some great 
 deed ? Do courage and self-surrender extort our 
 passionate sympathy, and invite, however vainly, 
 our halting imitation ? Does that which is noble 
 attract even the least noble, and that which is base 
 repel even the basest ? Nay, have the words ' noble ' 
 and ' base ' a meaning for us at all ? If so, it is from 
 no essential and immutable quality in the deeds 
 themselves. It is because, in the struggle for ex- 
 istence, the altruistic virtues are an advantage to 
 the family, the tribe, or the nation, but not always 
 an advantage to the individual ; it is because man 
 comes into the world richly endowed with the 
 inheritance of self-regarding instincts and appetites 
 required by his animal progenitors, but poor indeed 
 in any inbred inclination to the unselfishness neces- 
 sary to the well-being of the society in which he 
 lives ; it is because in no other way can the original 
 impulses be displaced by those of late growth to the 
 degree required by public utility, that Nature, in- 
 different to our happiness, indifferent to our morals, 
 but sedulous of our survival, commends disinterested 
 virtue to our practice by decking it out in all the 
 splendour which the specifically ethical sentiments 
 alone are capable of supplying. Could we imagine 
 the chronological order of the evolutionary process 
 reversed : if courage and abnegation had been the 
 qualities first needed, earliest developed, and there- 
 fore most deeply rooted in the ancestral organism ; 
 while selfishness, cowardice, greediness, and lust
 
 l8 NATURALISM AND ETPIICS 
 
 represented impulses required only at a later stage 
 of physical and intellectual development, doubtless 
 we should find the ' elevated ' emotions which now 
 crystallise round the first set of attributes transferred 
 without alteration or amendment to the second ; the 
 preacher would expend his eloquence in warning 
 us against excessive indulgence in deeds of self- 
 immolation, to which, like the ' worker ' ant, we 
 should be driven by inherited instinct, and in ex- 
 horting us to the performance of actions and the 
 cultivation of habits from which we now, unfortu- 
 nately, find it only too difficult to abstain. 
 
 Kant, as we all know, compared the Moral Law 
 to the starry heavens, and found them both sublime. 
 It would, on the naturalistic hypothesis, be more 
 appropriate to compare it to the protective blotches 
 on the beetle's back, and to find them both ingenious. 
 But how on this view is the ' beauty of holiness ' to 
 retain its lustre in the minds of those who know so 
 much of its pedigree ? In despite of theories, man- 
 kind — even instructed mankind — may, indeed, long 
 preserve uninjured sentiments which they have 
 learned in their most impressionable 3'ears from 
 those they love best ; but if, while they are being 
 taught the supremacy of conscience and the austere 
 majesty of duty, they are also to be taught that 
 these sentiments and beliefs are merely samples of 
 the complicated contrivances, many of them mean 
 and many of them disgusting, wrought into the 
 physical or into the social organism by the shaping
 
 NATURALISM AND ETHICS 1 9 
 
 forces of selection and elimination, assuredly much 
 of the efficacy of these moral lessons will be de- 
 stroyed, and the contradiction between ethical senti- 
 ment and naturalistic theory will remain intrusive 
 and perplexing, a constant stumbling-block to those 
 who endeavour to combine in one harmonious creed 
 the bare explanations of Biology and the lofty claims 
 of Ethics.^ 
 
 II 
 
 Unfortunately for m)- reader, it is not possible 
 wholly to omit from this section some references to 
 the questionings which cluster round the time-worn 
 debate on Determinism and Free Will ; but my re- 
 marks will be brief, and as little tedious as may be. 
 
 ' It may perhaps be thought that in this section I have too confi- 
 dently assumed that moraHty, or, more strictly, the moral sentiments 
 (including among these the feeling of authority which attaches to 
 ethical imperatives), are due to the working of natural selection. 
 I have no desire to dogmatise on a subject on which it is the busi- 
 ness of the biologist and anthropologist to pronounce. But it 
 seems difficult to believe that natural selection should not have had 
 the most important share in producing and making permanent 
 things so obviously useful. If the reader prefers to take the op- 
 posite view, and to regard moral sentiments as ' accidental,' he may 
 do so, without on that account being obliged to differ from my 
 general argument. He will then, of course, class moral sentiments 
 with the aesthetic emotions dealt with in the next chapter. 
 
 Of course 1 make no attempt to trace the causes of the variations 
 on which selective action has worked, nor to distinguish between 
 the moral sentiments, an inclination to or an aptitude for which has 
 been bred into the pJivxical organism of man or some races of 
 men, and those which have been wrought only into the iY^t/a/ organ- 
 ism of the family, the tribe, or the State.
 
 20 NATURALISM AND ETHICS 
 
 I have nothing here to do with the truth or un- 
 truth of either of the contending theories. It is 
 sufficient to remind the reader that on the naturalis- 
 tic view, at least, free will is an absurdity, and that 
 those who hold that view are bound to believe that 
 every decision at which mankind have arrived, and 
 every consequent action which they have performed, 
 was implicitly determined by the quantity and dis- 
 tribution of the various forms of matter and energy 
 which preceded the birth of the solar system. The 
 fact, no doubt, remains^ that every individual, while 
 balancing between two courses, is under the inevi- 
 table impression that he is at liberty to pursue either, 
 and that it depends upon 'himself and himself 
 alone, 'himself as distinguished from his character, 
 his desires, his surroundings, and his antecedents, 
 which of the offered alternatives he will elect to 
 pursue. I do not know that any explanation has 
 been proposed of what, on the naturalistic hypothe- 
 sis, we must regard as a singular illusion, I vent- 
 ure with some diffidence to suggest, as a theory pro- 
 visionally adequate, perhaps, for scientific purposes, 
 that the phenomenon is due to the same cause as so 
 many other beneficent oddities in the organic world, 
 namely, to natural selection. To an animal with no 
 self-consciousness a sense of freedom would evidently 
 be unnecessary, if not, indeed, absolutely unmeaning. 
 But as soon as self-consciousness is developed, as 
 
 ' At least, so it seems to me. There are, however, eminent 
 psychologists who differ.
 
 NATURALISM AND ETHICS 21 
 
 soon as man begins to reflect, however crudely and 
 imperfectly, upon himself and the world in which he 
 lives, then deliberation, volition, and the sense of re- 
 sponsibility become wheels in the ordinary machinery 
 by which species-preserving actions are produced; 
 and as these psychological states would be weakened 
 or neutralised if they were accompanied by the imme- 
 diate consciousness that they were as rigidly deter- 
 mined by their antecedents as any other effects by 
 any other causes, benevolent Nature steps in, and by 
 a process of selective slaughter makes the conscious- 
 ness in such circumstances practically impossible. 
 The spectacle of all mankind suffering under the 
 delusion that in their decision they are free, when, 
 as a matter of fact, they are nothing of the kind, 
 must certainly appear extremely ludicrous to any 
 superior observer, were it possible to conceive, on 
 the naturalistic hypothesis, that such observers 
 should exist ; and the comedy could not be other- 
 wise than greatly relieved and heightened by the 
 performances of the small sect of philosophers who, 
 knowing perfectly as an abstract truth that freedom 
 is an absurdity, yet in moments of balance and 
 deliberation fall into the vulgar error, as if they were 
 savages or idealists. 
 
 The roots of a superstition so ineradicable must 
 lie deep in the groundwork of our inherited organ- 
 ism, and must, if not now, at least in the first begin- 
 ning of sclf-consciousness, have been essential to the 
 welfare of the race which entertained it. Yet it
 
 22 NATURALISM AND ETHICS 
 
 may, perhaps, be thought that this requires us to 
 attribute to the dawn of intelligence ideas which are 
 notoriously of late development; and that as the 
 primitive man knew nothing of * invariable sequences ' 
 or 'universal causation,' he could in nowise be em- 
 barrassed in the struggle for existence by recognising 
 that he and his proceedings were as absolutely deter- 
 mined by their antecedents as sticks and stones. It 
 is, of course, true that in any formal or philosophical 
 shape such ideas would be as remote from the intel- 
 ligence of the savage as the differential calculus. 
 But it can, nevertheless, hardly be denied that, in 
 some shape or other, there must be implicitly present 
 to his consciousness the sense of freedom, since his 
 fetichism largely consists in attributing to inanimate 
 objects the spontaneity which he finds in himself ; 
 and it seems equally certain that the sense, I will 
 not say of constraint, but of incvitablcncss, would be 
 as embarrassing to a savage in the act of choice as 
 it would to his more cultivated descendant, and 
 would be not less productive of that moral im- 
 poverishment which, as I proceed briefly to point 
 out. Determinism is calculated to produce.^ 
 
 • It seems to be regarded as quite simple and natural that this 
 attribution of human spontaneity to inanimate objects should be the 
 first stage in the interpretation of the external world, and that it 
 should be only after the uniformity of material Nature had been con- 
 clusively established by long and laborious experience that the same 
 principles were applied to the inner experience of man himself. But, 
 in truth, unless man in the very earliest stages of his development had 
 believed himself to be free, precisely the opposite order of discovery 
 might have been anticipated. Even now our means of external
 
 NATURALISM AND ETHICS 23 
 
 And here I am anxious to avoid any appearance 
 of the exaggeration which, as I think, has sometimes 
 characterised discussions upon this subject. I admit 
 that there is nothing in the theory of determinism 
 which need modify the substance of the moral law. 
 That which duty prescribes, or the ' Practical Rea- 
 son ' recommends, is equally prescribed and recom- 
 mended whether our actual decisions are or are not 
 irrevocably bound by a causal chain which reaches 
 back in unbroken retrogression through a limitless 
 past. It may also be admitted that no argument 
 
 investigation are so imperfect that it is rather a stretch of lan- 
 guage to say that the theory of uniformity is in accordance with 
 experience, much less tiiat it is established by it. On the contrary, 
 the more refined are our experiments, the more elaborate are our 
 precautions, the more difficult it is to obtain results absolutely identi- 
 cal with each other, qualitatively as well as quantitatively. So far, 
 therefore, as mere observation goes, Nature seems to be always 
 aiming at a uniformity which she never quite succeeds in attaining; 
 and though it is no doubt true that the differences are due to errors 
 in the observations and not to errors in Nature, this manifestly cannot 
 be proved by the observations themselves, but only by a theory 
 established independently of the observations, and by which these 
 may be corrected and interpreted. Rut a man's own motives for 
 acting in a particular way at a particular time are simple compared 
 with the complexities of the material world, and to himself at least 
 might be known (one would suppose) with reasonable certainty. 
 Here, then (were it not for the inveterate illusion, old as self- 
 consciousness itself, that at the moment of choice no uniformity of 
 antecedents need insure a uniformity of consequences) would have 
 been the natural starting-point and suggestion of a theory of causa- 
 tion which, as experience ripened and knowledge grew, might have 
 gradually extended itself to the universe at large. Man would, in 
 fact, have had nothing more to do than to apply to the chaotic com- 
 plex of the macrocosm the principles of rigid and unchanging law by 
 which he had discovered the microcDsm to be governed.
 
 24 NATURALISM AND ETHICS 
 
 against good resolutions or virtuous endeavours 
 can fairly be founded upon necessitarian doctrines". 
 No doubt he who makes either good resolutions or 
 virtuous endeavours does so (on the determinist 
 theory) because he could not do otherwise ; but 
 none the less may these play an important part 
 among the antecedents by which moral actions are 
 ultimately produced. An even stronger admission 
 may, 1 think, be properly made. There is a fatalis- 
 tic temper of mind found in some of the greatest 
 men of action, religious and irreligious, in which the 
 sense that all that happens is fore-ordained does in 
 no way weaken the energy of volition, but only 
 adds a finer temper to the courage. It nevertheless 
 remains the fact that the persistent realisation of 
 the doctrine that voluntary decisions are as com- 
 pletely determined by external and (if you go far 
 enough back) by material conditions as involuntary 
 ones, does really conflict with the sense of personal 
 responsibility, and that with the sense of personal 
 responsibility is bound up the moral will. Nor is 
 this all. It may be a small matter that determinism 
 should render it thoroughly irrational to feel right- 
 eous indignation at the misconduct of other people. 
 It cannot be wholly without importance that it 
 should render it equally irrational to feel righteous 
 indignation at our own. Self-condemnation, repent- 
 ance, remorse, and the whole train of cognate emo- 
 tions, are really so useful for the promotion of virt- 
 ue that it is a pity to find them at a stroke thus
 
 NATURALISM AND ETHICS 2$ 
 
 deprived of all reasonable foundation, and reduced, 
 if they are to survive at all, to the position of ami- 
 able but unintelligent weaknesses. It is clear, more- 
 over, that these emotions, if they are to fall, will not 
 fall alone. What is to become of moral admiration? 
 The virtuous man will, indeed, continue to deserve 
 and to receive admiration of a certain kind — the 
 admiration, namely, which we justly accord to a 
 well-made machine ; but this is a very different senti- 
 ment from that at present evoked by the heroic or 
 the saintly ; and it is, therefore, much to be feared 
 that, at least in the region of the higher feelings, 
 the world will be no great gainer by the effective 
 spread of sound naturalistic doctrine. 
 
 No doubt this conffict between a creed which 
 claims intellectual assent and emotions which have 
 their root and justification in beliefs which are 
 deliberately rejected, is greatly mitigated by the 
 precious faculty which the human race enjoys of 
 quietly ignoring the logical consequences of its own 
 accepted theories. If the abstract reason by which 
 such theories are contrived always ended in pro- 
 ducing a practice corresponding to them, natural 
 selection would long ago have killed off all those 
 who possessed abstract reason. If a complete 
 accord between practice and speculation were 
 required of us, philosophers would long ago have 
 been eliminated. Nevertheless, the persistent con- 
 flict lietween that which is thought to be true, 
 and that which is felt to be noble and of good
 
 26 NATURALISM AND ETHICS 
 
 report, not only produces a sense of moral unrest in 
 the individual, but makes it impossible for us to 
 avoid the conclusion that the creed which leads to 
 such results is, somehow, unsuited for ' such beings 
 as we are in such a world as ours.' 
 
 Ill 
 
 There is thus an incongruity between the senti- 
 ments subservient to morality, and the naturalistic 
 account of their origin. It remains to inquire 
 whether any better harmony prevails between the 
 demands of the ethical imagination and what 
 Naturalism tells us concerning the final goal of all 
 human endeavour. 
 
 This is plainly not a question of small or sub- 
 sidiary importance, though it is one which 1 shall 
 make no attempt to treat with anything like com- 
 pleteness. Two only of these ethical demands is it 
 necessary, indeed, that I should here refer to : that 
 which requires the ends prescribed by morality to 
 be consistent ; and that which requires them to be 
 adequate. Can we say that either one or the other 
 is of a kind which the naturalistic theory is able to 
 satisfy ? 
 
 The first of these questions — that relating to 
 consistency — will no doubt be dealt with in different 
 ways by various schools of moralists ; but by what- 
 ever path they travel, all should arrive at a negative 
 conclusion. Those who hold as I do, that ' reason-
 
 NATURALISM AND ETHICS 2^ 
 
 able self-love* has a legitimate position among 
 ethical ends ; that as a matter of fact it is a virtue 
 wholly incompatible with what is commonly called 
 selfishness ; and that society suffers not from having 
 too much of it, but from having too little, will 
 probably take the view that, until the world under- 
 goes a very remarkable transformation, a complete 
 harmony between 'egoism' and 'altruism,' between 
 the pursuit of the highest happiness for one's self 
 and the highest happiness for other people, can 
 never be provided by a creed which refuses to 
 admit that the deeds done and the character 
 formed in this life can fiow over into another, 
 and there permit a reconciliation and an adjust- 
 ment between the conflicting principles which are 
 not always possible here. To those, again, who 
 hold (as I think, erroneously), both that the 
 'greatest happiness of the greatest number' is the 
 right end of action, and also that, as a matter of fact, 
 every agent invariably pursues his own, a heaven 
 and a hell, which should make it certain that 
 principle and interest were always in agreement, 
 would seem almost a necessity. Not otherwise, 
 neither by education, public opinion, nor positive 
 law, can there be any assured harmony produced 
 between that which man must do by the constitution 
 of his will, and that which he ought to do according 
 to the promptings of his conscience. On the other 
 hand, it must be acknowledged that those moralists 
 who are of opinion that ' altruistic ' ends alone are
 
 28 NATURALISM AND ETHICS 
 
 worthy of being described as moral, and that man is 
 not incapable of pursuing them without any self- 
 regarding motives, require no future life to eke out 
 their practical system. But even they would prob- 
 ably not be unwilling to admit, with the rest of the 
 world, that there is something jarring to the moral 
 sense in a comparison between the distribution of 
 happiness and the distribution of virtue, and that no 
 better mitigation of the difficulty has yet been 
 suggested than that which is provided by a system 
 of * rewards and punishments,' impossible in any uni- 
 verse constructed on strictly naturalistic principles. 
 With this bare indication of some of the points 
 which naturally suggest themselves in connection 
 with the first question suggested above, I pass on to 
 the more interesting problem raised by the second : 
 that which is concerned with the cmo/w/ia/ adequa.cy 
 of the ends prescribed by Naturalistic Ethics. And 
 in order to consider this to the best advantagfe I 
 will assume that we are dealing Avith an ethical sys- 
 tem which puts these ends at their highest; which 
 charges them, as it were, to the full with all that, 
 on the naturalistic theory, they are capable of con- 
 taining. Taking, then, as my text no narrow or 
 egoistic scheme, I will suppose that in the per- 
 fection and felicity of the sentient creation we may 
 find the all-inclusive object prescribed by morality 
 for human endeavour. Does this, then, or does it 
 not, supply us with all that is needed to satisfy our 
 ethical imagination ? Does it, or does it not, pro-
 
 NATURALISM AND ETHICS 29 
 
 vide US with an ideal end, not merely big enough 
 to exhaust our energies, but great enough to satisfy 
 our aspirations ? 
 
 At first sight the question may seem absurd. 
 The object is admittedly worthy ; it is admittedly 
 beyond our reach. The unwearied efforts of count- 
 less generations, the slow accumulation of inherited 
 experience, may, to those who find themselves able 
 to read optimism into evolution, promise some faint 
 approximation to the millennium at some far distant 
 epoch. How, then, can we, whose own contribution 
 to the great result must be at the best insignificant, 
 at the worst nothing or worse than nothing, presume 
 to think that the prescribed object is less than 
 adequate to our highest emotional requirements? 
 The reason is plain: our ideals are framed, not 
 according to the measure of our performances, but 
 according to the measure of our thoughts ; and our 
 thoughts about the world in which we live tend, 
 under the influence of increasing knowledge, con- 
 stantly to dwarf our estimate of the importance of 
 man, if man be indeed, as Naturalism would have us 
 believe, no more than a phenomenon among phenom- 
 ena, a natural object among other natural objects. 
 
 For what is man looked at from this point of 
 view ? Time was when his tribe and its fortunes 
 were enough to exhaust the energies and to bound 
 the imagination of the primitive sage.^ The gods' 
 
 ' The line of ihou.i^'-lu here is idcnlical witii ihat wliicli I pursued 
 in an already published essay on the Religion of Humanity. 1
 
 30 NATURALISM AND ETHICS 
 
 peculiar care, the central object of an attendant uni- 
 verse, that for which the sun shone and the dew 
 fell, to which the stars in their courses ministered, it 
 drew its origin in the past from divine ancestors, 
 and might by divine favour be destined to an indef- 
 inite existence of success and triumph in the future. 
 These ideas represent no early or rudimentary 
 stage in the human thought, yet have we left them 
 far behind. The family, the tribe, the nation, are 
 no longer enough to absorb our interests. Man — 
 past, present, and future — lays claim to our devo- 
 tion. What, then, can we say of him ? Man, so far 
 as natural science by itself is able to teach us, is no 
 longer the final cause of the universe, the Heav^en- 
 descended heir of all the ages. His very existence 
 is an accident, his story a brief and transitory 
 episode in the life of one of the meanest of the 
 planets. Of the combination of causes which first 
 converted a dead organic compound into the living 
 progenitors of humanity, science, indeed, as yet 
 knows nothing. It is enough that from such begin- 
 nings famine, disease, and mutual slaughter, fit nurses 
 of the future lords of creation, have gradually 
 evolved, after infinite travail, a race with conscience 
 enough to feel that it is vile, and intelligence 
 enough to know that it is insignificant. We survey 
 the past, and see that its history is of blood and tears, 
 of helpless blundering, of wild revolt, of stupid ac- 
 
 have not hesitated to borrow the phraseology of that essay wherever 
 it seemed convenient.
 
 NATURALISM AND ETHICS 3 1 
 
 quiescence, of empty aspirations. We sound the 
 future, and learn that after a period, long compared 
 with the individual life, but short indeed compared 
 with the divisions of time open to our investigation, 
 the energies of our system will decay, the glory of 
 the sun will be dimmed, and the earth, tideless and 
 inert, will no longer tolerate the race which has for 
 a moment disturbed its solitude. Man will go down 
 into the pit, and all his thoughts will perish. The 
 uneasy consciousness, which in this obscure corner 
 has for a brief space broken the contented silence of 
 the universe, will be at rest. Matter will know itself 
 no longer. ' Imperishable monuments ' and ' immortal 
 deeds,' death itself, and love stronger than death, 
 will be as though they had never been. Nor will 
 anything that is be better or be worse for all that the 
 labour, genius, devotion, and suffering of man have 
 striven through countless generations to effect. 
 
 It is no reply to say that the substance of the 
 Moral Law need suffer no change through any 
 modification of our views of man's place in the 
 universe. This may be true, but it is irrelevant. 
 We desire, and desire most passionately when we 
 are most ourselves, to give our service to that which 
 is Universal, and to that which is Abiding. Of what 
 moment is it, then (from this point of view), to be 
 assured of the fixity of the moral law when it and 
 the sentient world, where alone it has any signifi- 
 cance, are alike destined to vanish utterly away 
 within periods trifiing beside those with which the
 
 32 NATURALISM AND ETHICS 
 
 geologist and the astronomer lightly deal in the 
 course of their habitual speculations ? No doubt to 
 us ordinary men in our ordinary moments considera- 
 tions like these may seem far off and of little mean- 
 ing. In the hurry and bustle of every-day life death 
 itself — the death of the individual — seems shadowy 
 and unreal ; how much more shadowy, how much 
 less real, that remoter but not less certain death 
 which must some day overtake the race ! Yet, after 
 all, it is in moments of reflection that the worth of 
 creeds may best be tested ; it is through moments of 
 reflection that they come into living and effectual 
 contact with our active life. It cannot, therefore, be 
 a matter to us of small moment that, as we learn to 
 survey the material world with a wider vision, as we 
 more clearly measure the true proportions which 
 man and his performances bear to the ordered Whole, 
 our practical ideal gets relatively dwarfed and 
 beggared, till we may well feel inclined to ask 
 whether so transitory and so unimportant an acci- 
 dent in the general scheme of things as the foi'tunes 
 of the human race can any longer satisfy aspirations 
 and emotions nourished upon beliefs in the Ever- 
 lasting and the Divine.
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 NATURALISM AND .ESTHETIC 
 
 In the last chapter I considered the effects which 
 Naturalism must tend to produce upon the senti- 
 ments associated with Morality. I now proceed to 
 consider the same question in connection with the 
 sentiments known as assthetic ; and as I assumed that 
 the former class were, like other evolutionary utilities, 
 in the main produced by the normal operation of 
 selection, so I now assume that the latter, being (at 
 least in any developed stage) quite useless for the 
 perfection of the individual or species, must be re- 
 garded, upon the naturalistic hypothesis, as mere by- 
 products of the great machinery by which organic 
 life is varied and sustained. It will not, I hope, be 
 supposed that I propose to offer this distinction as a 
 material contribution towards the definition either 
 of ethic or of aesthetic sentiments. This is a ques- 
 tion in which I am in no way interested ; and I am 
 quite prepared to admit that some emotions which 
 in ordinary language would be described as 'moral,' 
 are useless enougli to be included in the class of 
 natural accidents ; and also that this class may, 
 3
 
 34 NATURALISM AND ^ESTHETIC 
 
 indeed does, include many emotions which no one 
 following common usage would characterise as 
 assthetic. The fact remains, however, that the 
 capacity for every form of feeling must in the main 
 either be, or not be, the direct result of selection 
 and elimination ; and whereas in the first section of 
 the last chapter I considered the former class, taking 
 moral emotion as their type, so now I propose to 
 offer some observations on the second class, taking: 
 as their type the emotions excited by the Beautiful. 
 Whatever value these Notes may have will not 
 necessarily be affected by any error that I may 
 have made in the apportionment between the two 
 divisions, and the reader may make what redistri- 
 bution he thinks fit, without thereby necessarily in- 
 validating the substance of the conclusions which I 
 offer for his acceptance. 
 
 I do not, however, anticipate that there will be 
 any serious objection raised from the scientific side 
 to the description of developed assthetic emotion as 
 ' accidental,' in the sense in which that word is 
 here employed. The obstacle I have to deal with 
 in conducting the argument of this chapter is of a 
 different kind. My object is to indicate the conse- 
 quences which flow from a purely naturalistic treat- 
 ment of the theory of the Beautiful ; and I am at once 
 met with the difficulty that, so far as I am aware, 
 no such treatment has ever been attempted on a 
 large scale, and that the fragmentary contributions 
 which have been made to the subject do not meet
 
 NATURALISM AND ESTHETIC 35 
 
 with general acceptance on the part of scientific in- 
 vestigators themselves. To say that certain capaci- 
 ties for highly complex feeling are not the direct 
 result of natural selection, and were not evolved to 
 aid the race in the struggle for existence, may be a 
 true, but is a purely negative account of the matter, 
 and gives but little help in dealing with the two 
 questions to which an answer is especially required : 
 namely. What are the causes, historical, psychologi- 
 cal, and physiological, which enable us to derive aes- 
 thetic gratification from some objects, and forbid us 
 to derive it from others ? and, Is there any fixed and 
 permanent element in Beauty, any unchanging reali- 
 ty which we perceive in or through beautiful objects, 
 and to which normal aesthetic feelings correspond ? 
 
 Now, it is clear that on the naturalistic hypothesis 
 the second question cannot be properly dealt with 
 till some sort of answer has been given to the first ; 
 and the answers given to the first seem so unsat- 
 isfactory that they can hardly be regarded as even 
 provisionally adequate. 
 
 In order to realise the difficulties and, as I think, 
 the shortcomings of existing theories on the sub- 
 ject, let us take the case of Music — by far the most 
 convenient of the Fine Arts for our purpose, part- 
 ly because, unlike Architecture, it serves no very 
 obvious purpose,^ and we are thus absolved from 
 
 ' I may be permitted to isjnorc Mr. Spencer's suggestion that 
 the function of music is to promote sympathy by improving our 
 modulation in speech.
 
 36 NATURALISM AND /ESTHETIC 
 
 giving any opinion on the relation between beauty 
 and utility ; partly because, unlike Painting and 
 Poetry, it has no external reference, and we are thus 
 absolved from giving any opinion on the relation 
 between beauty and truth. Of the inestimable 
 blessings which these peculiarities carry with them, 
 anyone may judge who has ever got bogged in the 
 barren controversies concerning the Beautiful and 
 the Useful, the Real and the Ideal, which fill so large 
 a space in certain classes of aesthetic literature. 
 Great indeed will he feel the advantages to be of 
 dealing with an Art whose most characteristic 
 utterances have so little to do directly, either with 
 utility or truth. 
 
 What, then, is the cause of our delight in Music ? 
 It is sometimes hastily said to have originated in 
 the ancestors of man through the action of sexual 
 selection. This is of course impossible. Sexual 
 selection can only work on materials already in 
 existence. Like other forms of selection, it can im- 
 prove, but it cannot create; and the capacity for 
 enjoying music (or noise) on the part of the female, 
 and the capacity for making it on the part of the 
 male, must both have existed in a rudimentary state 
 before matrimonial preferences can have improved 
 either one gift or the other. I do not in any case 
 quite understand how sexual selection is supposed 
 even to improve the capacity for enjoyment. If the 
 taste exist, it can no doubt develop the means re- 
 quired for its gratification; but how can it improve
 
 NATURALISM AND .ESTHETIC 37 
 
 the taste itself? The ieniales ol certain species of 
 spiders, I believe, like to see good dancing. Sexual 
 selection, therefore, no doubt may gradually improve 
 the dancing of the male. The females of many 
 animals are, it seems, fond of particular kinds of 
 noise. Sexual selection may therefore gradually fur- 
 nish the male with the apparatus by which appro- 
 priate noises may be produced. In both cases, 
 however, a pre-existing taste is the cause of the 
 variation, not the variation of the taste ; nor, ex- 
 cept in the case of the advanced arts, which do not 
 flourish at a period when those who successfully 
 practise them have any advantage in the matri- 
 monial struggle, does taste appear to be one of the 
 necessary qualifications of the successful artist. Of 
 course, if violin - playing were an important aid to 
 courtship, sexual selection would tend to develop 
 that musical feeling and discrimination, without 
 which good violin-playing is impossible. But a 
 grasshopper requires no artistic sensibility before 
 it can successfully rub its wing-cases together ; so 
 that Nature is only concerned to provide the an- 
 atomical machinery by which such rubbing may 
 result in a sibilation gratifying to the existing 
 aesthetic sensibilities of the female, but cannot in 
 any way be concerned in developing the artistic 
 side of Ihose sensibilities themselves. 
 
 Sexual selection, therefore, however well it may 
 be fitted to give an explanation of a large number of 
 animal noises and of the growth of the organs by
 
 38 NATURALISM AND /ESTHETIC 
 
 which they are produced, throws but little light on 
 the origin and development of musical feeling, either 
 in animals or men. And the other explanations I 
 have seen do not seem to me much better. Take, 
 for instance, Mr. Spencer's modification of Rousseau's 
 theory. According to Mr. Spencer, strong emotions 
 are naturally accompanied by muscular exertion, and, 
 among other muscular exertions, by contractions 
 and extensions of ' the muscles of the chest, abdomen, 
 and vocal cords.' The resultant noises recall by 
 association the emotions which gave them birth, and 
 from this primordial coincidence sprang, as we are 
 asked to believe, first cadenced speech, and then 
 music. Now I do not desire to quarrel with the 
 ' primordial coincidence.' My point is, that even if 
 it ever took place, it affords no explanation of any 
 modern feeling for music. Grant that a particular 
 emotion produced a ' contraction of the abdomen,' 
 that the ' contraction of the abdomen ' produced a 
 sound or series of sounds, and that, through this 
 association with the originating emotion, the sound 
 ultimately came to have independent aesthetic value, 
 how are we advanced towards any explanation of 
 the fact that quite different sound-effects now please 
 us, and that the nearer we get to the original noises, 
 the more hideous they appear? How does the ' pri- 
 mordial coincidence ' account for our ancestors lik- 
 ing the tom-tom? And how does the fact that our 
 ancestors liked the tom-tom account for our liking 
 the Ninth Symphony ?
 
 NATURALISM AND .ESTHETIC 39 
 
 The truth is that Mr. Spencer's theory, like all 
 others which endeavour to trace back the pleasure- 
 f^iving qualities of art to some simple and original 
 association, slurs over the real difficulties of the 
 problem. If it is the primitive association which 
 produces the pleasure-giving quality, the further this 
 is left behind by the developing art, the less pleasure 
 should be produced. Of course, if the art is con- 
 tinually fed from other associations and different 
 experiences, if fresh emotional elements are con- 
 stantly added to it capable of being worn and 
 weathered into the fitting soil for an aesthetic har- 
 vest, in that case, no doubt, we may suppose that 
 with each new development its pleasure - giving 
 qualities may be enriched and multiplied. But then, 
 it is to these new elements and to these new experi- 
 ences, not to the ' primordial coincidence,' that we 
 should mainly look for the causal explanation of 
 our assthetic feeling. In the case of music, where 
 are these new elements and experiences to be 
 found ? None can tell us ; few theorists even try. 
 Indeed, the procedure of those who account for 
 music by searching for the primitive association 
 which first in the history of man or of his ancestors 
 conferred assthetic value upon noise, is as if one 
 should explain the Amazon in its flood by point- 
 ing to the rivulet in the far Andes which, as the 
 tributary most distant from its mouth, has the honour 
 of being called its source. This may be allowed to 
 stand as a geographical description, but it is very
 
 40 NATURALISM AND ^ESTHETIC 
 
 inadequate as a physical explanation. Dry up the 
 rivulet, and the huge river would still flow on, 
 without abatement or diminution. Only its titular 
 origin has been touched; and if we would know the 
 Amazon in its beginnings, and trace back the history 
 of the vast result through all the complex ramifica- 
 tions of its contributory causes, each great confluent 
 must be explored, each of the countless streams 
 enumerated whose gathered waters sweep into the 
 sea four thousand miles across the plain. 
 
 The imperfection of this mode of procedure will 
 become clear if we compare it with that adopted 
 by the same school of theorists when they endeavour 
 to explain the beauty of landscape. I do not mean 
 to express any assent to their account of the causes 
 of our feelings for scenery ; on the contrary, these 
 accounts seem to me untenable. But though unten- 
 able, they are not on the face of them inadequate. 
 Natural objects — the sky and hills, woods and waters 
 — are spread out before us as they were spread out 
 before our remotest ancestors, and there is no ob- 
 vious absurdity (if the hereditary transmission of 
 acquired qualities be granted) in conceiving them, 
 through the secular experience of mankind, to be- 
 come charged with associations which reappear for 
 us in the vague and massive form of aesthetic pleas- 
 ure. But according to all association theories of 
 music, that which is charged with the raw material of 
 aesthetic pleasure is not the music we wish to have 
 explained, but some primeval howl, or at best the
 
 NATURALISM AND .ESTHETIC 41 
 
 unmusical variations of ordinary speech, and no 
 solution whatever is offered of the paradox that the 
 sounds which give musical delight have no associa- 
 tions, and that the sounds which had associations 
 give no musical delight. 
 
 It is, perhaps, partly in consequence of these or 
 analogous difBculties, but mainly in consequence of 
 his views on heredity, which preclude him from 
 accepting any theory which involves the transmis- 
 sion of acquired qualities, that Weismann gives an 
 account of the musical sense which is practically 
 equivalent to the denial that any explanation of the 
 pleasure we derive from music is possible at all. 
 For him, the faculties which enable us to appreciate 
 and enjoy music were evolved for entirely differ- 
 ent purposes, and it is a mere accident that, when 
 they come into relation with certain combinations 
 of sound, we obtain through their means aesthetic 
 gratification. Mankind, no doubt, are continually 
 inventing new musical devices, as they are con- 
 tinually inventing new dishes. But as the second 
 process implies an advance in the art of cookery, 
 but no transmitted modification in the human pal- 
 ate, so the former implies musical progress, but no 
 change in the innate capacities of successive genera- 
 tions of listeners.^ 
 
 ' I have made no allusion to Helmholtz's classic investigations, 
 for these deal chiefly with the physical character of the sounds, or 
 combinations of sound, which give us pleasure, but do not pretend 
 fully to answer the cjuestion 7vliy they give pleasure.
 
 42 NATURALISM AND /ESTHETIC 
 
 II 
 
 This is, perhaps, a sufficiently striking example of 
 the unsatisfactory condition of scientific £esthetics, 
 and may serve to show how difficult it is to find in 
 the opinions of different authorities a common body 
 of doctrine on which to rest the argument of this 
 chapter. I should imagine, however, both from 
 the speculations to which I have just briefly ad- 
 verted, and from any others with which I am ac- 
 quainted, that no person who is at all in sympathy 
 with the naturalistic view of things would maintain 
 that there anywhere exists an intrinsic and essential 
 quality of beauty, independent of the feelings and 
 the taste of the observer. The very nature, indeed, 
 of the senses principally engaged indicates that on 
 the naturalistic hypothesis they cannot, in most cases, 
 refer to any external and permanent object of beauty. 
 For Naturalism (as commonly held) is deeply com- 
 mitted to the distinction between the primary and 
 the secondary qualities of matter ; the former (exten- 
 sion, solidity, and so forth) being supposed to exist as 
 they are perceived, while the latter (such as sound and 
 colour) are due to the action of the primary qualities 
 upon the sentient organism, and apart from the sen- 
 tient organism have no independent being. Every 
 scene in Nature, therefore, and every work of art, 
 whose beauty consists either directly or indirectly, 
 either presentatively or representatively, in colour or
 
 NATURALISM AND ESTHETIC 43 
 
 in sound, has, and can have, no more permanent exist- 
 ence than is possessed by that relation between the 
 senses and our material environment which gave 
 them birth, and in the absence of which they perish. 
 If we could perceive the succession of events which 
 constitute a sunset exactly as they occur, as they 
 are (physically, not metaphysically speaking) /// 
 themselves, they would, so far as we can guess, have 
 no aesthetic merit, or even meaning. If we could 
 perform the same operation on a symphony, it 
 would end in a like result. The first would be no 
 more than a special agitation of the ether ; the 
 second would be no more than a special agitation 
 of the air. However much they might excite the 
 curiosity of the physicist or the mathematician, for 
 the artist they could no longer possess either inter- 
 est or significance. 
 
 It might, however, be said that the Beautiful, 
 although it cannot be called permanent as compared 
 with the general framework of the external world, 
 is, nevertheless, sufficiently permanent for all human 
 purposes, in so far as it depends upon the fixed rela- 
 tions between our senses and their material sur- 
 roundings. Without at present stopping to dispute 
 this, let us consider whether we have any right to 
 suppose that even this degree of ' objectivity ' can 
 be claimed for the quality of beauty. In order to 
 settle the question we can, on the naturalistic 
 hypothesis, appeal, it would seem, to only one 
 authority, namely, the experience of mankind.
 
 44 NATURALISM AND JESTUETIC 
 
 Does this, then, provide us with any evidence that 
 beauty is more than the name for a miscellaneous 
 flux of endlessly varying causes, possessing no 
 property in common, except that at some place, at 
 some time, and in some person, they have each 
 shown themselves able to evoke the kind of feeling 
 which we choose to describe as aesthetic ? 
 
 Put thus there seems room for but one answer. 
 The variations of opinion on the subject of beauty 
 are notorious. Discordant pronouncements are 
 made by different races, different ages, different 
 individuals, the same individual at different times. 
 Nor does it seem possible to devise any scheme by 
 which an authoritative verdict can be extracted from 
 this chaos of contradiction. An appeal, indeed, is 
 sometimes made from the opinion of the vulgar to 
 the decision of persons of ' trained sensibility ' ; and 
 there is no doubt that, as a matter of fact, through 
 the action of those who profess to belong to this 
 class, an orthodox tradition has grown up which 
 may seem at first sight almost to provide some faint 
 approximation to the ' objective ' standard of which 
 we are in search. Yet it will be evident on con- 
 sideration that it is not simply on their 'trained 
 sensibility ' that experts rely in forming their 
 opinion. The ordinary critical estimate of a work 
 of art is the result of a highly complicated set of 
 antecedents, and by no means consists in a simple 
 and naked valuation of the ' aesthetic thrill ' which 
 the aforesaid work produces in the critic, now and
 
 NATURALISM AND /ESTHETIC 45 
 
 here. If it were so, .clearly it could not be of any 
 importance to the art critic when and by whom any 
 particular work of art was produced. Problems of 
 age and questions of authorship would be left en- 
 tirely to the historian, and the student of the beau- 
 tiful would, as such, ask himself no question but 
 this : How and why are my esthetic sensibilities 
 affected by this statue, poem, picture, as it is in 
 itself ? or (to put the same thing in a form less open 
 to metaphysical disputation), What would my feelings 
 towards it be if I were totally ignorant of its date, 
 its author, and the circumstances of its production ? 
 As we all know, these are considerations never 
 in practice ignored by the critic. He is preoccu- 
 pied, and rightly preoccupied, by a multitude of 
 questions beyond the mere valuation of the out- 
 standing amount of aesthetic enjoyment which, in 
 the year 1892, any artistic or literary work, taken 
 simpliciter, is, as a matter of fact, capable of produc- 
 ing. He is much concerned with its technical pecul- 
 iarities. He is anxious to do justice to its author, 
 to assign him his true rank among the productive 
 geniuses of his age and country, to make due allow- 
 ance for his ' environment,' for the traditions in 
 which he was nurtured, for the causes which make 
 his creative genius embody itself in one form rather 
 than in another. Never for one instant does the 
 critic forget, or allow his reader to forget, that the 
 real magnitude of the foreshortened object under 
 observation must be estimated by the rules of his-
 
 46 NATURALISM AND /ESTHETIC 
 
 torical perspective. Never does he omit, in dealing 
 with the artistic legacies of bygone times, to take 
 account of any long -accepted opinion which may 
 exist concerning them. He endeavours to make 
 himself the exponent of the 'correct view.' His 
 judgment is, consciously or unconsciously, but not, 
 I think, wrongly, a sort of compromise between that 
 which he would form if he drew solely from his 
 own inner experience, and that which has been 
 formed for him by the accumulated wisdom of his 
 predecessors on the bench. He expounds case- 
 made law. He is partly the creature and partly the 
 creator of a critical tradition ; and we can easily 
 conjecture how devious his course would be, were 
 his orbit not largely controlled by the attraction of 
 received views, if we watch the disastrous fate 
 which so often overtakes him when he pronounces 
 judgment on new works, or on works of which 
 there is no estimate embodied in any literary creed 
 which he thinks it necessary to respect. Voltaire's 
 opinion of Shakespeare does not make one think 
 less of Voltaire, but it throws an interesting light 
 on the genesis of average critical decisions and the 
 normal growth of taste. 
 
 From these considerations, which might easily 
 be supplemented, it seems plain that the opinions of 
 critical experts represent, not an objective standard, 
 if such a thing there be, but an historical compro- 
 mise. The agreement among them, so far as such a 
 thing is to be found, is not due solely to the fact
 
 NATURALISM AND /liSTHETIC 47 
 
 that with their own eyes they all see the same 
 things, and therefore say the same things ; it is not 
 wholly the result of a common experience : it arises 
 in no small measure from their sympathetic endeav- 
 ours to see as others have seen, to feel as others 
 have felt, to judge as others have judged. This 
 may be, and I suppose is, the fairest way of compar- 
 ing the merits of deceased artists. But, at the same 
 time, it makes it impossible for us to attach much 
 weight to the assumed consensus of the ages, or to 
 suppose that this, so far as it exists, implies the 
 realit}^ of a standard independent of the varying 
 whims and fancies of individual critics. In truth, 
 however, the consensus of the ages, even about the 
 greatest works of creative genius, is not only in part 
 due to the process of critical manufacture indicated 
 above, but its whole scope and magnitude is ab- 
 surdly exaggerated in the phrases which pass cur- 
 rent on the subject. This is not a question, be it 
 observed, of aesthetic right and wrong, of good taste 
 or bad taste ; it is a question of statistics. We are 
 not here concerned with what the mass of mankind, 
 even of educated mankind, ought to feel, but with 
 what as a matter of fact they do feel, about the 
 works of literature and art which they have inher- 
 ited from the past. And I believe that every im- 
 partial observer will admit that, of the aesthetic 
 emotion actually experienced by any generation, the 
 merest fraction is due to the 'immortal ' productions 
 <jf the generations which have long preceded it.
 
 48 NATURALISM AND ^ESTHETIC 
 
 Their immortality is largely an immortality of 
 libraries and museums ; they supply material to 
 critics and historians, rather than enjoyment to 
 mankind ; and if it were to be maintained that one 
 music-hall song gives more assthetic pleasure in a 
 night than the most exquisite compositions of Pales- 
 trina in a decade, I know not how the proposition 
 could be refuted. 
 
 The ancient Norsemen supposed that besides the 
 soul of the dead, which went to the region of de- 
 parted spirits, there survived a ghost, haunting, 
 though not for ever, the scenes of his earthly la- 
 bours. At first vivid and almost lifelike, it slowly 
 waned and faded, until at length it vanished, leav- 
 ing behind it no trace or memory of its spectral 
 presence amidst the throng of living men. So, it 
 seems to me, is the immortality we glibly predicate 
 of departed artists. If they survive at all, it is but 
 a shadowy life they live, moving on through the 
 gradations of slow decay to distant but inevitable 
 death. They can no longer, as heretofore, speak 
 directly to the hearts of their fellow-men, evoking 
 their tears or laughter, and all the pleasures, be 
 they sad or merry, of which imagination holds the 
 secret. Driven from the market-place, they become 
 first the companions of the student, then the victims 
 of the specialist. He who would still hold familiar 
 intercourse with them must train himself to pene- 
 trate the veil which, in ever-thickening folds, con- 
 ceals them from the ordinary gaze ; he must catch
 
 NATURALISM AND ESTHETIC 49 
 
 the tone of a vanished society, he must move in a 
 circle of alien associations, he must think in a lan- 
 guage not his own. Need we, then, wonder that 
 under such conditions the outfit of a critic is as 
 much intellectual as emotional, or that if from off 
 the complex sentiments with which they regard the 
 ' immortal legacies of the past ' we strip all that is 
 due to interests connected with history, with biog- 
 raphy, W4th critical analyses, with scholarship, and 
 with technique, but a small modicum will, as a rule, 
 remain which can with justice be attributed to pure 
 aesthetic sensibility. 
 
 Ill 
 
 I have, however, no intention of implying b}'' the 
 preceding observations that the aesthetic feelings 
 of ' the vulgar ' are less sophisticated than those of 
 the learned. A very cursory examination of * public 
 taste' and its revolutions may suffice to convince 
 anyone of the contrary. And, in the first place, let 
 us ask why every ' public ' has a taste ? And why, 
 at least in Western communities, that taste is so apt 
 to alter? Why, in other words, do communities or 
 sections (jf communities so often feel the same thing 
 at the same time, and so often feel different things at 
 different times? Why is there so mu-ch uniformity, 
 and why is there so much change? 
 
 These questions are of great interest, although 
 they have not, perhaps, met with all the attention 
 4
 
 50 NATURALISM AND ESTHETIC 
 
 they deserve. In these Notes it would not be fitting 
 to attempt to deal with them at length, and I shall 
 only offer observations on two points which seem 
 relevant to the design of the present chapter. 
 
 The question of Uniformity is best approached 
 at the humbler end of the testhetic scale, in connec- 
 tion, not with art in its narrower and loftier sense, 
 but with dress. Everybody is acquainted, either 
 by observation or by personal experience, with the 
 coercive force of fashion ; but not everybody is 
 aware what an instructive and interesting phenom- 
 enon it presents. Consider the case of bonnets. 
 During the same season all persons belonging, or 
 aspiring to belong, to the same ' public,' if they wear 
 bonnets at all, wear bonnets modelled on the same 
 type. Why do they do this ? If we were asking a 
 similar question, not about bonnets, but about steam- 
 engines, the answer would be plain. People tend 
 at the same date to use the same kind of engine for 
 the same kind of purpose because it is the best avail- 
 able. They change their practice when a better one 
 is invented. But as so used the words ' better' and 
 ' best ' have no application to modern dress. Neither 
 efficiency nor economy, it will at once be admitted, 
 supply the grounds of choice or the motives for 
 variation. 
 
 If, again, we were asking the question about some 
 great phase of art, we should probably be told that 
 the general acceptance of it by a whole generation 
 was due to some important combination of historic
 
 NATURALISM AND .-l^STHETIC 5 1 
 
 causes, acting alike on artist and on public. Such 
 causes no doubt exist and have existed ; but the case 
 of fashion proves that uniformity is not produced by 
 them alone, since it will hardly be pretended that 
 there is any widely diffused cause in the social 
 environment, except the coercive operation of fash- 
 ion itself, which should make the bonnets which 
 were thought becoming in 1881 unbecoming in the 
 year 1892. 
 
 • Again, we might be told that art contains essen- 
 tial principles of self-development, which require one 
 productive phase to succeed another by a kind of 
 inner necessity, and determine not merely that there 
 shall be variation, but what that variation shall be. 
 This also may be, and is, in a certain sense, true. 
 But it can hardly be supposed that we can explain 
 the fashions which prevail in any year by assuming, 
 not merely that the fashions of the previous years 
 were foredoomed to change, but also that, in the na- 
 ture of the case, only one change was possible, that, 
 namely, which actually took place. Such a doctrine 
 would be equivalent to saying that if all the bonnet- 
 wearers were for a space deprived of any knowledge 
 of each other's proceedings (all other things remain- 
 ing the same), they would, on the resumption of their 
 ordinary intercourse, find that they had all inclined 
 towards much the same modification of the type of 
 bonnet prevalent before their separation — a con- 
 clusion which seems to mc, I confess, to be some- 
 what improbable.
 
 52 NATURALISM AND /ESTHETIC 
 
 It may perhaps be hazarded, as a further expla- 
 nation, that this uniformity of practice is indeed a fact, 
 and is really produced by a complex group of causes 
 which we denominate ' fashion,' but that it is a 
 uniformity of practice alone, not of taste or feeling, 
 and has no real relation to any aesthetic problem 
 whatever. This is a question the answer to which 
 can be supplied, I apprehend, by observation alone ; 
 and the answer which observation enables us to give 
 seems to me quite unambiguous. If, as is possi- 
 ble, my readers have but small experience in such 
 matters themselves, let them examine the experi- 
 ences of their acquaintance. They will find, if I 
 mistake not, that by whatever means conformity to 
 a particular pattern may have been brought about, 
 those who conform are not, as a rule, conscious of 
 coercion by an external and arbitrary authority. 
 They do not act under penalty ; they yield no un- 
 willing obedience. On the contrary, their admira- 
 tion for a ' well-dressed person,' qiid well-dressed, is 
 at least as genuine an aesthetic approval as any they 
 are in the habit of expressing for other forms of 
 beauty ; just as their objection to an outworn fash- 
 ion is based on a perfectly genuine sesthetic dislike. 
 They are repelled by the unaccustomed sight, as a 
 reader of discrimination is repelled by turgidity or 
 false pathos. It appears to them ugly, even gro- 
 tesque, and they turn from it Avith an aversion as 
 disinterested, as unperturbed by personal or ' so- 
 ciet}^ ' considerations, as if they were critics contem-
 
 NATURALISM AND ESTHETIC 53 
 
 plating the production of some pretender in the 
 reirion of Great Art. 
 
 In truth this tendency in matters assthetic is only 
 a particular case of a general tendency to agreement 
 which plays an even more important part in other 
 departments of human activity. Its operation, beneh- 
 cent doubtless on the whole, may be traced through 
 all social and political life. We owe to it in part 
 that deep-lying likeness in tastes, in opinions, and in 
 habits, without which cohesion among the individ- 
 ual units of a community would be impossible, and 
 which constitutes the unmoved platform on which 
 we tight out our political battles. It is no contemp- 
 tible factor among the forces by which nations are 
 created and religions disseminated and maintained. 
 It is the very breath of life to sects and coteries. 
 Sometimes, no doubt, its results are ludicrous. 
 Sometimes they are unfortunate. Sometimes merely 
 insignificant. Under which of these heads we should 
 class our ever-changing uniformity in dress I will 
 not take upon me to determine. It is sufficient for 
 my present purpose to point out that the aesthetic 
 likings which fashion originates, however trivial, are 
 perfectly genuine ; and that to an origin similar in 
 kind, however different in dignity and permanence, 
 should be traced much of the characteristic quality 
 which gives its special ilavour to the higher artistic 
 sentiments of each successive generation.
 
 54 NATURALISM AND ESTHETIC 
 
 IV 
 
 It is, of course, true that this ' tendency to agree- 
 ment,' ^ this principle of drill, cannot itself determine 
 the objects in respect of which the agreement is to 
 take place. It can do much to make every member 
 of a particular ' public ' like the same bonnet, or the 
 same epic, at the same time ; but it cannot deter- 
 mine what that bonnet or that epic is to be. A 
 fashion, as the phrase goes, has to be ' set,' and the 
 persons who set it manifestly do not follow it. What, 
 then, do they follow ? We note the influences that 
 move the flock. What moves the bell-wether? 
 
 Here again much might conveniently be learnt 
 from an examination of fashion and its changes, for 
 these provide us with a field of research where we 
 are disturbed by no preconceived theories or incon- 
 venient admirations, and where we may dissect our 
 subject with the cold impartiality which befits 
 scientific investigation. The reader, however, may 
 think that enough has been done already by this 
 method ; and I shall accordingly pursue a more 
 general treatment of the subject, premising that in 
 the brief observations which follow no complete 
 
 ' Of course the ' tendency to agreement ' is not presented to the 
 reader as a simple, undecomposable social force. It is, doubtless, 
 highly complex, one of its most important elements being, I sup- 
 pose, the instinct of uncritical imitation, which is the very basis of all 
 effective education. The line of thought hinted at in this paragraph 
 is pursued much further in the Third Part of this Essay.
 
 NATURALISM AND .ESTHETIC 55 
 
 analysis of the complexity of concrete Nature is 
 attempted, or is, indeed, necessary for my purpose. 
 
 It will be convenient, in the first place, to dis- 
 tinguish between the mode in which the public who 
 enjoy, and the artists who produce, respectively 
 promote aesthetic change. That the public are often 
 weary and expectant — weary of what is provided for 
 them, and expectant of some good thing to come — 
 will hardly be denied. Yet I do not think they can 
 be usually credited with the conscious demand for a 
 fresh artistic development. For though they often 
 want some new thing, they do not often want a neiv 
 kind of thing; and accordingly it commonly, though 
 not invariably, happens that, when the new thing 
 appears, it is welcomed at first by the few, and only 
 gradually — by the force of fashion and otherwise 
 — conquers the genuine admiration of the many. 
 
 The artist, on the other hand, is moved in no 
 small measure by a desire that his work should be 
 his own, no pale reflection of another's methods, 
 but an expression of himself in his own language. 
 He will vary for the better if he can, yet, rather than 
 be conscious of repetition, he will vary for the worse ; 
 for vary he must, either in substance or in form, 
 unless he is to be in his own eyes, not a creator, but 
 an imitator; not an artist, but a copyist.^ 
 
 It will be observed that I am not obliged to 
 
 ' No doubt it is an echo of this feelincf that makes purchasers 
 invariably prefer a bad orig^inal to the best copy of the best ori.tjinal — 
 a preference which in argument it would be exceedingly difificult to 
 justify.
 
 56 NATURALISM AND .ESTHETIC 
 
 draw the dividing-line between originality and pla- 
 giarism ; to distinguish between the man who is one 
 of a school, and the man who has done no more 
 than merely catch the trick of a master. It is 
 enough that the artist himself draws the distinction, 
 and will never consciously allow himself to sink from 
 the first category into the second. 
 
 We have here, then, a general cause of change, 
 but not a cause of change in any particular direction, 
 or of any particular amount. These I believe to be 
 determined in part by the relation between the 
 artists and the public for whom they produce, and in 
 part by the condition of the art itself at the time the 
 change occurs. As regards the first, it is commonly 
 said that the artist is the creation of his age, and the 
 discovery of this fact is sometimes thought to be a 
 momentous contribution made by science to the 
 theory of aesthetic evolution. The statement, how- 
 ever, is unfortunately worded. The action of the 
 age is, no doubt, important, but it would be more 
 accurate, I imagine, to describe it as destructive 
 than as creative ; it does not so much produce as 
 select. It is true, of course, that the influence of 
 ' the environment ' in moulding, developing, and 
 stimulating genius within the limits of its original 
 capacity is very great, and may seem, especially in 
 the humbler walks of artistic production, to be all- 
 powerful. But innate and original genius is not the 
 creation of any age. It is a biological accident, the 
 incalculable product of two sets of ancestral ten-
 
 NATURALISM AND /ESTHETIC 57 
 
 dencies ; and what the age does to these biological 
 accidents is not to create them, but to choose from 
 them, to encourage those which are in harmony with 
 its spirit, to crush out and to sterilise the rest. Its 
 action is analogous to that which a plot of ground 
 exercises on the seeds which fall upon it. Some 
 thrive, some languish, some die; and the resulting 
 vegetation is sharply characterised, not because few 
 kinds of seed have there sown themselves, but 
 because few kinds have been allowed to grow up. 
 Without pushing the parallel too far, it may yet 
 serve to illustrate the truth that, as a stained win- 
 dow derives its character and significance from the 
 absorption of a large portion of the rays which 
 endeavour to pass through it, so an age is what it is, 
 not only by reason of what it fosters, but as much, 
 perhaps, by reason of what it destroys. We may con- 
 ceive, then, that from the total but wholly unknown 
 number of men of productive capacity born in any 
 generation, those whose gifts are in harmony with 
 the tastes of their contemporaries will produce their 
 best; those whose gifts are wholly out of harmony 
 will be extinguished, or, which is very nearly the 
 same thing, will produce only for the benefit of the 
 critics in succeeding generations ; while those who 
 occupy an intermediate position will, indeed, produce, 
 but their powers will, consciously or unconsciously, 
 be warped and thwarted, and their creations fall short 
 of what, under happier circumstances, they might 
 have been able to achieve.
 
 58 NATURALISM AND .ESTHETIC 
 
 Here, then, we have a tendency to change aris- 
 ing out of the artist's insistence on originality, and 
 a limitation on change imposed by the character 
 of the age in which he lives. The kind of change 
 will be largely determined by the condition of 
 the art which he is practising. If it be in an 
 early phase, full as yet of undeveloped possibili- 
 ties, then in all probability he will content him- 
 self with improving on his predecessors, without 
 widely deviating from the lines they have laid 
 down. For this is the direction of least resistance : 
 here is no public taste to be formed, here are no 
 great experiments to be tried, here the pioneer's 
 rough work of discovery has already been accom- 
 plished. But if this particular fashion of art has 
 culminated, and be in its decline ; if, that is to say, 
 the artist feels more and more difficulty in express- 
 ing himself through it, without saying worse what 
 his predecessors have said already, then one of 
 three things happens — either originality is perforce 
 sought for in exaggeration ; or a new style is 
 invented ; or artistic creation is abandoned and the 
 field is given up to mere copyists. Which of these 
 events shall happen depends, no doubt, partl}^ on 
 the accident of genius, but it depends, I think, still 
 more on the prevailing taste. If, as has frequently 
 happened, that taste be dominated by the memory 
 of past ideals ; if the little public whom the big 
 public follow are content with nothing that does 
 not conform to certain ancient models, a period of
 
 NATURALISM AND -ESTHETIC 59 
 
 artistic sterility is inevitable. But if circumstances 
 be more propitious, then art continues to move ; 
 the direction and character of its movement being 
 due partly to the special turn of genius possessed 
 by the artist who succeeds in producing a public 
 taste in harmony with his powers, and partly to the 
 reaction of the taste thus created, or in process of 
 creation, upon the general artistic talent of the 
 community. 
 
 Even, however, in those periods when the 
 movement of art is most striking, it is dangerous 
 to assume that movement implies progress, if by 
 progress be meant increase in the poiuer to excite 
 cssthetic emotion. It would be rash to assume this 
 even as regards Music, where the movement has 
 been more remarkable, more continuous, and more 
 apparently progressive over a long period of time 
 than in any other art whatever. In music, the 
 artist's desire for originality of expression has been 
 aided generation after generation by the discovery 
 of new methods, new forms, new instruments. From 
 the bare simplicity of the ecclesiastical chant or the 
 village dance to the ordered complexity of the modern 
 score, the art has passed through successive stages 
 of development, in each of which genius has dis- 
 covered devices of harmony, devices of instrumenta- 
 tion, and devices of rhythm which would have been 
 musical paradoxes to preceding generations, and 
 became musical commonplaces to the generations 
 that followed after. Yet, what has been the net
 
 6o NATURALISM AND yESTHETlC 
 
 gain ? Read through the long catena of critical 
 judgments, from Wagner back (if you please) to 
 Plato, which ever}' age has passed on its own per- 
 formances, and you will find that to each of them 
 its music has been as adequate as ours is to us. It 
 moved them not less deeply, nor did it move them 
 differently ; and compositions which for us have 
 lost their magic, and which we regard as at best 
 but agreeable curiosities, contained for them the 
 secret of all the unpictured beauties which music 
 shows to her worshippers. 
 
 Surely there is here a great paradox. The 
 history of Literature and Art is tolerably well known 
 to us for many hundreds of years. During that 
 period Poetry and Sculpture and Painting have 
 been subject to the usual mutations of fashion ; there 
 have been seasons of sterility and seasons of plenty ; 
 schools have arisen and decayed ; new nations and 
 languages have been pressed into the service of Art; 
 old nations have fallen out of line. But it is not 
 commonly supposed that at the end of it all Vv^e 
 are much better off than the Greeks of the age of 
 Pericles in respect of the technical dexterity of the 
 artist, or of the resources which he has at his com- 
 mand. During the same period, and measured by the 
 same external standard, the development of Music 
 has been so great that it is not, I think, easy to exag- 
 gerate it. Yet, through all this vast revolution, the 
 position and importance of the art as compared with 
 other arts seems, so far as I can discover, to have
 
 NATURALISM AND /ESTHETIC 6 1 
 
 suffered no sensible change. It was as great four 
 hundred years before Christ as it is at the present 
 moment. It was as great in the sixteenth, seven- 
 teenth, and eighteenth centuries as it is in the nine- 
 teenth. How, then, can we resist the conclusion 
 that this amazing musical development, produced 
 by the expenditure of so much genius, has added 
 little to the felicity of mankind ; unless, indeed, it 
 so happens that in his particular art a steady level 
 of aesthetic sensation can only be maintained by 
 increasinof doses of cESthetic stimulant. 
 
 These somewhat desultory observations do not, 
 it must be acknowledged, carry us very far towards 
 that of which we are in search, namely, a theory 
 of aesthetics in harmony with naturalism. Yet, on 
 recapitulation, negative conclusions of some impor- 
 tance will, I think, be seen to follow from them. It 
 is clear, for instance, that those who, like Goethe, 
 long to dwell among * permanent relations,' wherever 
 else they may find them, will at least not find them in 
 or behind the feeling of beauty. Such permanent 
 relations do, indeed, exist, binding in their unchang- 
 ing framework the various forms of energy and 
 matter which make up the physical universe; but 
 it is not the perception oi these which, either in 
 Nature or in art, stirs within us aesthetic emotion — 
 else sIkhiUI \vc find our surest guides to beauty in
 
 62 NATURALISM AND .ESTHETIC 
 
 an astronomical chart or table of chemical equiva- 
 lents, and nothing would seem to us of less aes- 
 thetic significance than a symphony or a love-song. 
 That which is beautiful is not the object as we 
 know it to be — the vibrating molecule and the un- 
 dulating ether — but the object as we know it not 
 to be — glorious with qualities of colour or of sound. 
 Nor can its beauty be supposed to last any longer 
 than the transient reaction between it and our spe- 
 cial senses, which are assuredly not permanent or 
 important elements in the constitution of the world 
 in which we live. 
 
 But even within these narrow limits — narrow, I 
 mean, compared with the wide sweep of our scientific 
 vision — there seemed to be no ground for supposing 
 that there is in Nature any standard of beauty to 
 which all human tastes tend to conform, any beauti- 
 ful objects which all normally constituted individuals 
 are moved to admire, any aesthetic judgments which 
 can claim to be universal. The divergence between 
 different tastes is, indeed, not only notorious, but is 
 what we should have expected. As our aesthetic 
 feelings are not due to natural selection, natural se- 
 lection will have no tendency to keep them uni- 
 form and stable. In this respect they differ, as I 
 have said, from ethical sentiments and beliefs. De- 
 viations from sound morality are injurious either 
 to the individual or to the community — those who 
 indulge in them are at a disadvantage in the struggle 
 for existence ; hence, on the naturalistic hypothesis.
 
 NATURALISM AND .^iSTHETIC 63 
 
 the approximation to identity in the accepted codes 
 of different nations. But there is, fortunately, no 
 natural punishment annexed to bad taste ; and ac- 
 cordingly the variation between tastes has passed 
 into a proverb. 
 
 Even in those cases where some slender thread 
 of similarity seemed to bind together the tastes of 
 different times or different persons, further con- 
 sideration showed that this was largely due to 
 causes which can by no possibility be connected 
 with any supposed permanent element in beauty. 
 The agreement, for example, between critics, in so 
 far as it exists, is to no small extent an agreement 
 in statement and in analysis, rather than an agree- 
 ment in feeling ; they have the same opinion as to 
 the cooking of the dinner, but they by no means all 
 eat it with the same relish. In few cases, indeed, 
 do their estimates of excellence correspond with the 
 living facts of ccsthetic emotion as shown either in 
 themselves or in anybody else. Their whole pro- 
 cedure, necessary though it may be for the compara- 
 tive estimate of the worth of individual artists, unduly 
 conceals the vast and arbitrary^ changes by which 
 the taste of one generation is divided from that of 
 another. And when we turn from critical tradi- 
 tion to the aesthetic likes and dislikes of men and 
 women ; when we leave the admirations which are 
 professed for the emotions which are felt, we find 
 
 ' 'Arbitrary,' i.e. not due to any causes which point to the ex- 
 istence of objective beauty.
 
 64 NATURALISM AND ESTHETIC 
 
 in vast multitudes of cases that these are not con- 
 nected with the object which happens to excite them 
 by any permanent aesthetic bond at all. Their true 
 determining cause is to be sought in fashion, in that 
 * tendency to agreement ' which plays so large, and 
 on the whole so useful, a part in social economy. 
 Nor, in considering the causes which produce the 
 rise and fall of schools, and all the smaller muta- 
 tions in the character of aesthetic production, did 
 we perceive more room for the belief that there is 
 somewhere to be found a permanent element in the 
 beautiful. There is no evidence that these changes 
 constitute stages in any process of gradual approxi- 
 mation to an unchanging standard ; they are not 
 born of any strivings after some ideal archetype ; 
 they do not, like the movements of science, bring 
 us ever nearer to central and immutable truth. On 
 the contrary, though schools are born, mature, and 
 perish, though ancient forms decay, and new ones 
 are continually devised, this restless movement is, 
 so far as science can pronounce, without meaning 
 or purpose, the casual product of the quest after 
 novelty, determined in its course by incalculable 
 forces, by accidents of genius, by accidents of public 
 humour, involving change but not progress, and 
 predestined, perhaps, to end universally, as at many 
 times and in many places it has ended already, in a 
 mood of barren acquiescence in the repetition of 
 ancient models, the very Nirvana of artistic imagi- 
 nation, without desire and without pain.
 
 NATURALISM AND ^ESTHETIC 65 
 
 And yet the persistent and almost pathetic 
 endeavours of aesthetic theory to show that the 
 beautiful is a necessary and unchanging element in 
 the general scheme of things, if they prove nothing 
 else, may at least convince us that mankind will not 
 easily reconcile themselves to the view which the 
 naturalistic theory of the world would seemingly 
 compel them to accept. We need feel no difficult}-, 
 perhaps, in admitting the full consequences of that 
 theory at the lower end of the sesthetic scale, in 
 the region, for instance, of bonnets and wall-papers. 
 We may tolerate it even when it deals with impor- 
 tant-elements in the highest art, such as the sense 
 of technical excellence, or S3'mpathy with the crafts- 
 man's skill. But when we look back on those too 
 rare moments when feelings stirred in us by some 
 beautiful object not only seem wholly to absorb us, 
 but to raise us to the vision of things far above the 
 ken of bodily sense or discursive reason, we cannot 
 acquiesce in any attempt at explanation which con- 
 fines itself to the bare enumeration of psychological 
 and physiological causes and effects. We cannot 
 willingly assent to a theory which makes a good 
 composer only differ from a good cook in that he 
 deals in more complicated relations, moves in a 
 wider circle of associations, and arouses our feel- 
 ings through a different sense. However little, 
 theref(jrc, we may be prepared to accept any par- 
 ticular scheme of metaphysical aesthetics — and most 
 of these appear to me to be very absurd — we must 
 5
 
 66 NATURALISM AND ESTHETIC 
 
 believe that somewhere and for some Being there 
 shines an unchanging splendour of beauty, of which 
 in Nature and in Art we see, each of us from our 
 own standpoint, only passing gleams and stray reflec- 
 tions, whose different aspects we cannot now co- 
 ordinate, whose import we cannot fully comprehend, 
 but which at least is something other than the chance 
 play of subjective sensibility or the far-off echo of 
 ancestral lusts. No such mystical creed can, how- 
 ever, be squeezed out of observation and experi- 
 ment ; Science cannot give it us ; nor can it be 
 forced into any sort of consistency with the Nat- 
 uralistic Theory of the Universe.
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 NATURALISM AND REASON 
 
 Among those who accept without substantial modi- 
 fication the naturalistic theory of the universe are 
 some who find a compensation for the general non- 
 rationality of Nature in the fact that, after all, rea- 
 son, human reason, is Nature's final product. If the 
 world is not made by Reason, Reason is at all 
 events made by the world ; and the unthinking in- 
 teraction of causes and effects has at least resulted 
 in a consciousness wherein that interaction may be 
 reflected and understood. This is not Teleology. 
 Indeed it is a doctrine which leaves no room for any 
 belief in design. But in the minds of some who 
 have but imperfectly grasped their own doctrines, 
 it appears capable of partially meeting the senti- 
 mental needs to which teleology gives a fuller satis- 
 faction, inasmuch as reason thus finds an assured 
 place in the scheme of things, and is enabled, after 
 the fashion of the Chinese, in some sort to ennoble 
 its ignoble progenitors. 
 
 This theory of the non-rational origin of reason, 
 whicli is a necessary coi'ollary of the naf iii-alistic
 
 68 NATURALISM AND REASON 
 
 scheme, has philosophical consequences of great in- 
 terest, to some of which I have alkided elsewhere,^ 
 and which must occupy our attention in a later 
 chapter of these Notes. In the meanwhile, there 
 are other aspects of the subject which deserve a 
 moment's consideration. 
 
 From the point of view of organic evolution 
 there is no distinction, I imagine, to be drawn be- 
 tween the development of reason and that of any 
 other faculty, physiological or psychical, by which 
 the interests of the individual or the race are pro- 
 moted. From the humblest form of nervous irri- 
 tability at one end of the scale, to the reasoning 
 capacity of the most advanced races at the other, 
 everything, without exception — sensation, instinct, 
 desire, volition — has been produced, directly or in- 
 directly, by natural causes acting for the most part 
 on strictly utilitarian principles. Convenience, not 
 knowledge, therefore, has been the main end to 
 which this process has tended. ' It was not for pur- 
 poses of research that our senses were evolved,' nor 
 was it in order to penetrate the secrets of the uni- 
 verse that we are endowed with reason. 
 
 Under these circumstances it is not surprising 
 that the faculties thus laboriously created are but 
 imperfectly fitted to satisfy that speculative curios- 
 ity which is one of the most curious bj^-products of 
 the evolutionary process. The inadequacy of our 
 intellect, indeed, to resolve the questions which it 
 
 ' Philosophic Doubt, Pt. iii., ch. xiii.
 
 NATURALISM AND REASON 69 
 
 is capable of asking is acknowledged (at least in 
 words) both by students of science and by students 
 of theology. But they do not seem so much im- 
 pressed with the inadequacy of our senses. Yet, if 
 the current doctrine of evolution be true, we have 
 no choice but to admit that with the great mass of 
 natural fact we are probably brought into no sensi- 
 ble relation at all. I am not referring here merely 
 to the limitations imposed upon such senses as we 
 possess, but to the total absence of an indefinite 
 number of senses which conceivably we might pos- 
 sess, but do not. There are sounds which the ear 
 cannot hear, there are sights which the eye cannot 
 see. But besides all these there must be countless 
 aspects of external Nature of which we have no 
 knowledge; of which, owing to the absence of ap- 
 propriate organs, we can form no conception ; which 
 imagination cannot picture nor language express. 
 Had Voltaire been acquainted with the theory of 
 evolution, he would not have put forward his Mi- 
 cromegas so much as an illustration of a paradox 
 which cannot be disproved, as of a truth which can- 
 not be doubted. For to suppose that a course of 
 development carried out, not with the object of ex- 
 tending knowledge or satisfying curiosity, but solely 
 with that of promoting lite, on an area so insig- 
 nificant as the surface of the earth, between limits 
 of temperature and pressure so narrow, and under 
 general conditions so exceptional, should have end- 
 ed in supplying us with senses even approximately
 
 70 NATURALISM AND REASON 
 
 adequate to the apprehension of Nature in all her 
 complexities, is to believe in a coincidence more as- 
 tounding than the most audacious novelist has ever 
 employed to cut the knot of some entangled tale. 
 
 For it must be recollected that the same natural 
 forces which tend to the evolution of organs which 
 are useful tend also to the suppression of organs 
 that are useless. Not only does Nature take no 
 interest in our general education, not only is she 
 quite indifferent to the growth of enlightenment, un- 
 less the enlightenment improve our chances in the 
 struggle for existence, but she positively objects to 
 the very existence of faculties by which these ends 
 might, perhaps, be attained. She regards them as 
 mere hindrances in the only race which she desires 
 to see run ; and not content with refusing directly 
 to create any faculty except for a practical pur- 
 pose, she immediately proceeds to destroy faculties 
 already created when their practical purpose has 
 ceased ; for thus does the eye of the cave-born fish 
 degenerate and the instinct of the domesticated 
 animal decay. Those, then, who are inclined to the 
 opinion that between our organism and its environ- 
 ments there is a correspondence which, from the 
 point of view of general knowledge, is even approx- 
 imately adequate, must hold, in \\\q first place, that 
 samples or suggestions of every sort of natural man- 
 ifestation are to be found in our narrow and limited 
 world ; in the second place, that these samples are of 
 a character which would permit of nervous tissue
 
 NATURALISM AND REASON /I 
 
 being so modified by selection as to respond specifi- 
 cally to their action ; in the third place, that such 
 specific modifications were not only possible, but 
 would have proved useful at the period of evolution 
 during which our senses in their present shape were 
 developed ; and in \\\q fourth place, that these modi- 
 fications would have proved useful enough to make 
 it worth while to use up, for the purpose of produc- 
 ing them, material which might have been, and has 
 been, otherwise employed. 
 
 All these propositions seem to me improbable, 
 the first two of them incredible.^ It is impossible, 
 
 ' It may perhaps be said that it is not necessary that we should be 
 specifically affected by each particular kind of energy in order either 
 to discover its existence or to investigate its character. It is enough 
 that among its effects should be some which are cognisable by our 
 actual senses, that it should modify in some way the world we know, 
 that it should intervene perceptibly in that part of the general system 
 to which our organism happens to be immediately connected. This 
 is no doubt true, and our knowledge of electricity and magnetism 
 (among other things) is there to prove it. But let it be noted how 
 slender and how accidental was the clue which led us to the first 
 beginnings, from which all our knowledge of these great phenomena 
 is derived. Directly they can hardly be said to be in relation with 
 our organs of perception at all (notwithstanding the fact that light is 
 now regarded as an electro-magnetic phenomenon) and their indirect 
 relation with them is so slight that probably no amount of mere obser- 
 vation could, in the absence of experiment, have given us a notion of 
 their magnitude or importance. They were not sought for to fill a 
 gap whose existence had been demonstrated by calculation. Their 
 discovery was no inevitable step in the onward march of scientific 
 knowledge. They were stumbled upon by accident ; and few would 
 be bold enough to assert that if, for example, the human race had 
 not happened to possess iron, magnetism would ever have presented 
 itself as a subject requiring investigation at all.
 
 72 NATURALISM AND REASON 
 
 therefore, to resist the conviction that there must be 
 an indefinite number of aspects of Nature respecting 
 which science never can give us any information, 
 even in our dreams. We must conceive ourselves as 
 feeling our way about this dim corner of the il- 
 limitable world, like children in a darkened room, 
 encompassed by we know not what ; a little better 
 endowed with the machinery of sensation than the 
 protozoon, yet poorly provided indeed as compared 
 with a being, if such a one could be conceived, 
 whose senses were adequate to the infinite variety 
 of material Nature. It is true, no doubt, that we 
 are possessed of reason, and that protozoa are not. 
 But even reason, on the naturalistic theory, occupies 
 no elevated or permanent position in the hierarchy 
 of phenomena. It is not the final result oi a great 
 process, the roof and crown of things. On the con- 
 trary, it is, as I have said, no more than one of many 
 experiments for increasing our chance of survival, 
 and, among these, by no means the most important 
 or the most enduring. 
 
 II 
 
 People sometimes talk, indeed, as if it was the 
 difficult and complex work connected with the main- 
 tenance of life that was performed by intellect. But 
 there can be no greater delusion. The management 
 of the humblest organ would be infinitely beyond 
 our mental capacity, were it possible for us to be
 
 NATURALISM AND REASON 73 
 
 entrusted with it ; and as a matter of fact, it is only 
 in the simplest jobs that discursive reason is per- 
 mitted to have a hand at all ; our tendency to take 
 a different view being merely the self-importance of 
 a child who, because it is allowed to stamp the let- 
 ters, imagines that it conducts the correspondence. 
 The best way of looking at mind on the naturalistic 
 hypothesis is, perhaps, to regard it as an instrument 
 for securing a flexibility of adaptation which instinct 
 alone is not able to attain. Instinct is incompa- 
 rably the better machine in every respect save one. 
 It works more smoothly, with less friction, with far 
 greater precision and accuracy. But it is not adapt- 
 able. Many generations and much slaughter are re- 
 quired to breed it into a race. Once acquired, it can 
 be modified or expelled only by the same harsh and 
 tedious methods. Mind, on the other hand, from 
 the point of view of organic evolution, may be con- 
 sidered as an inherited faculty for self-adjustment; 
 and though, as I have already had occasion to note, 
 the limits within which such adjustment is permit- 
 ted are exceedingly narrow, within those limits it is 
 doubtless exceedingly valuable. 
 
 But even here one of the principal functions of 
 mind is to create habits by which, when they are 
 fully formed, it is itself supplanted. If the conscious 
 adaptation of means to ends was always necessary 
 in order to perform even those few functions for the 
 first performance of which conscious adaptation was 
 originally required, life would be frittered away in
 
 74 NATURALISM AND REASON 
 
 doing badly, but with deliberation, some small frac- 
 tion of that which we now do well without any 
 deliberation at all. The formation of habits is, there- 
 fore, as has often been pointed out, a necessary pre- 
 liminary to the ' higher ' uses of mind ; for it, and it 
 alone, sets attention and intelligence free to do work 
 from which they would otherwise be debarred by 
 their absorption in the petty needs of daily exist- 
 ence. 
 
 But while it is thus plain that the formation of 
 habits is an essential pre-requisitc of mental develop- 
 ment, it would also seem that it constitutes the 
 first step in a process which, if thoroughly success- 
 ful, would end in the destruction, if not of conscious- 
 ness itself, at least of the higher manifestation of 
 consciousness, such as will, attention, and discur- 
 sive reason.^ All these, as we may suppose, will be 
 gradually superseded in an increasing number of 
 departments of human activity by the growth of in- 
 stincts or inherited habits, by which even such adjust- 
 ments between the organism and its surroundings as 
 now seem most dependent on self-conscious mind 
 may be successfully effected. 
 
 These are prophecies, however, which concern 
 themselves with a very remote future, and for my 
 part I do not ask the reader to regard their fulfil- 
 ment as an inexorable necessity. It is enough if 
 
 ' Empirical psychologists are not agreed as to whether the ap- 
 parent unconsciousness which accompanies completed habits is real 
 or not. It is unnecessary for the purpose of my argument that this 
 point should be determined.
 
 NATURALISM AND REASON 75 
 
 they mark with sufficient emphasis the place which 
 Mind, in its higher manifestations, occupies in the 
 scheme of things, as this is presented to us by the 
 naturalistic hypothesis. Mr. Spencer, who pierces 
 the future with a surer gaze than I can make the 
 least pretence to, looks confidently forw^ard to a time 
 when the relation of man to his surroundings will be 
 so happily contrived that the reign of absolute right- 
 eousness will prevail ; conscience, grown unneces- 
 sary, will be dispensed with ; the path of least 
 resistance will be the path of virtue ; and not the 
 ' broad,' but the ' narrow way,' will ' lead to destruc- 
 tion.' These excellent consequences seem to me 
 to flow very smoothly and satisfactorily from his 
 particular doctrine of evolution, combined with his 
 particular doctrine of morals. But I confess that my 
 own personal gratification at the prospect is some- 
 what dimmed by the reflection that the same kind 
 of causes which make conscience superfluous will 
 relieve us from the necessity of intellectual effort, 
 and that by the time we are all perfectly good we 
 shall also be all perfectly idiotic. 
 
 I know not how it may strike the reader ; but I 
 at least am left sensibly poorer b}' this deposition of 
 Reason from its ancient position as the Ground of 
 all existence, to that of an expedient among other 
 expedients for the maintenance of organic life ; an ex- 
 pedient, moreover, which is temporary in its charac- 
 ter and insignificant in its effects. An irrational 
 Universe which accidentally turns out a few reason-
 
 ^6 NATURALISM AND REASON 
 
 ing animals at one corner of it, as a rich man may 
 experiment at one end of his park with some curious 
 * sport ' accidentally produced among his flocks and 
 herds, is a Universe which we might well despise if 
 we did not ourselves share its degradation. But 
 must we not inevitably share it? Pascal somewhere 
 observes that Man, however feeble, is yet in his very 
 feebleness superior to the blind forces of Nature ; 
 for he knows himself, and they do not. I confess that 
 on the naturalistic hypothesis I see no such superi- 
 ority. If, indeed, there were a Rational Author of 
 Nature, and if in any degree, even the most insig- 
 nificant, we shared His attributes, we might well 
 conceive ourselves as of finer essence and more in- 
 trinsic worth than the material world which we in- 
 habit, immeasurable though it may be. But if we 
 be the creation of that world ; if it made us what 
 we are, and will again unmake us ; how then ? The 
 sense of humour, not the least precious among the 
 gifts with which the clash of atoms has endowed 
 us, should surely prevent us assuming any airs of 
 superiority over other and more powerful members 
 of the same family of ' phenomena,' more permanent 
 and more powerful than ourselves.
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 SUMMARY AND CONCLUSION OF PART I 
 
 I HAVE now completed my survey of certain opin- 
 ions which naturalism seems to require us to hold 
 respecting- important matters connected with Right- 
 eousness, Beauty, and Reason, The survey has 
 necessarily been concise ; but, concise though it has 
 been, it has, perhaps, sufficiently indicated the inner 
 antagonism which exists between the Naturalistic 
 system and the feelings which the best among man- 
 kind, including many who may be counted as adhe- 
 rents of that system, have hitherto considered as the 
 most valuable possessions of our race. If natural- 
 ism be true, or, rather, if it be the whole truth, then 
 is morality but a bare catalogue of utilitarian pre- 
 cepts; beauty but the chance occasion of a passing 
 pleasure ; reason but the dim passage from one set 
 of unthinking habits to another. All that gives dig- 
 nity to life, all that gives value to effort, shrinks and 
 fades under the pitiless glare of a creed like this ; 
 and even curiosity, the hardiest among the nobler 
 passions of the soul, must languish under the con- 
 viction that neither for this generation nor for any 
 that shall come after it, neither in this life nor in
 
 yS SUMMARY AND CONCLUSION OF PART I 
 
 another, will the tie be wholly loosened by which 
 reason, not less than appetite, is held in hereditary 
 bondage to the service of our material needs. 
 
 I am anxious, however, not to overstate my case. 
 It is of course possible, to take for a moment aesthet- 
 ics as our text, that whatever be our views concern- 
 ing- naturalism, we shall still like good poetry and 
 good music, and that we shall not, perhaps, find if 
 we sum up our pleasures at the year's end, that the 
 total satisfaction derived from the contemplation of 
 Art and Nature is very largely diminished by the 
 fact that our philosophy allows us to draw no im- 
 portant distinction between the beauties of a sauce 
 and the beauties of a symphony. Both may con- 
 tinue to afford the man with a good palate and a 
 good ear a considerable amount of satisfaction ; and 
 if all we desire is to find in literature and in art 
 something that will help us either 'to enjoy life or 
 to endure it,' I do not contend that, by any theory 
 of the beautiful, of this we shall wholly be deprived. 
 
 Nevertheless there is, even so, a loss not lightly 
 to be underrated, a loss that falls alike on him that 
 produces and on him that enjoys. Poets and artists 
 have been wont to consider themselves, and to be 
 considered by others, as prophets and seers, the re- 
 vealers under sensuous forms of hidden mysteries, 
 the symbolic preachers of eternal truths. All this 
 is, of course, on the naturalistic theory, very absurd. 
 They minister, no doubt, with success to some phase, 
 usually a very transitory phase, of public taste ; but
 
 SUMMARY AND CONCLUSION OP^ PART I 79 
 
 they have no mysteries to reveal, and what they tell 
 us, though it may be very agreeable, is seldom true, 
 and never important. This is a conclusion which, 
 howsoever it ma}- accord with sound philosophy, is 
 not likely to prove ver}- stimulating to the artist, nor 
 does it react with less unfortunate effect upon those 
 to whom the artist appeals. Even if their feeling of 
 delight in the beautiful is not marred for them in 
 immediate experience, it must suffer in memory and 
 reflection. For such a feeling carries with it, at its 
 best, an inevitable reference, not less inevitable be- 
 cause it is obscure, to a Reality which is eternal and 
 unchanging ; and we cannot accept without suffer- 
 ing the conviction that in making such a reference 
 we were merely the dupes of our emotions, the vic- 
 tims of a temporary hallucination induced, as it were, 
 by some spiritual drug. 
 
 But if on the naturalistic hypothesis the senti- 
 ments associated with beauty seem like a poor jest 
 played on us by Nature for no apparent purpose, 
 those that gather round morality are, so to speak, a 
 deliberate fraud perpetrated for a well-defined end. 
 The consciousness of freedom, the sense of respon- 
 sibility, the authority of conscience, the beauty of 
 holiness, the admiration for self-devotion, the sym- 
 pathy with suffering— these and all the train of be- 
 liefs and feelings from which spring noble deeds and 
 generous ambitions are seen to be mere devices for 
 securing to societies, if not to individuals, some 
 competitive advantage in the struggle for existence.
 
 8o SUMMARY AND CONCLUSION OF PART I 
 
 They are not worse, but neither are they better 
 than the thousand-and-one appetites and instincts, 
 many of them, as I have said, cruel, and many of 
 them disgusting, created by similar causes in order 
 to carry out through all organic Nature the like un- 
 profitable ends ; and if we think them better, as in 
 our unreflecting moments we arc apt to do, this, on 
 the Naturalistic hypothesis, is only because some 
 delusion of the kind is necessary in order to induce 
 us to perform actions which in themselves can con- 
 tribute nothing to our personal gratification. 
 
 The inner discord which finds expression in con- 
 clusions like these largely arises, as the reader sees, 
 from a want of balance or proportion between the 
 range of our intellectual vision and the circum- 
 stances of our actual existence. Our capacity for 
 standing outside ourselves and taking stock of the 
 position which we occupy in the universe of things 
 has been enormously and, it would seem, unfort- 
 unately, increased by recent scientific discovery. 
 We have learned too much. We are educated above 
 that position in life in which it has pleased Nature 
 to place us. We can no longer accept it without 
 criticism and without examination. We insist on 
 interrogating that material system which, according 
 to naturalism, is the true author of our being as to 
 whence we come and whither we go, what are the 
 causes which have made us what we are, and what 
 are the purposes which our existence subserves. 
 And it must be confessed that the answers given to
 
 SUMMARY AND CONCLUSION OF PART I 8 1 
 
 this question by our oracle are extremely unsatis- 
 factory. We have learned to measure space, and 
 we perceive that our dwelling-place is but a mere 
 point, wandering with its companions, apparently 
 at random, through the wilderness of stars. We 
 have learned to measure time, and we perceive that 
 the life not merely of the individual or of the nation, 
 but of the whole race, is brief, and apparently quite 
 unimportant. We have learned to unravel causes, 
 and we perceive that emotions and aspirations 
 whose very being seems to hang on the existence 
 of realities of which naturalism takes no account, 
 are in their origin contemptible and in their sug- 
 gestion mendacious. 
 
 To me it appears certain that this clashing be- 
 tween beliefs and feelings must ultimately prove 
 fatal to one or the other. Make what allowance 
 you please for the stupidity of mankind, take the 
 fullest account of their really remarkable power of 
 letting their speculative opinions follow one line of 
 development and their practical ideals another, yet 
 the time must come when reciprocal action will 
 perforce bring opinions and ideals into some kind of 
 agreement and congruity. If, then, naturalism is to 
 hold the field, the feelings and opinions inconsist- 
 ent with naturalism must be foredoomed to suffer 
 change ; and how, when that change sliall come 
 about, it can do otherwise than eat all nobility out of 
 our conception of conduct and all worth out of our 
 conception of life, I am wholly unable to understand.
 
 82 SUMMARY AND CONCLUSION OF PART I 
 
 I am aware that many persons are in the habit 
 of subjecting these views to an experimental refuta- 
 tion by pointing to a great many excellent people 
 who hold, in more or less purity, the naturalistic 
 creed, but who, nevertheless, offer prominent ex- 
 amples of that habit of mind with which, as I have 
 been endeavouring to show, the naturalistic creed is 
 essentially inconsistent. Naturalism — so runs the 
 argument — co-exists in the case of Messrs. A., B., 
 C, &c., with the most admirable exhibition of un- 
 selfish virtue. If this be so in the case of a hundred 
 individuals, why not in the case of ten thousand? 
 If in the case of ten thousand, why not in the case 
 of humanity at large ? Now, to the facts on which 
 this reasoning proceeds I raise no objection. I de- 
 sire neither to ignore the existence nor to mini- 
 mise the merits of these shining examples of virtue 
 unsupported by religion. But though the facts be 
 true, the reasoning based on them will not bear 
 close examination. Biologists tell us of parasites 
 which live, and can only live, within the bodies of 
 animals more highly organised than they. For 
 them their luckless host has to find food, to digest 
 it, and to convert it into nourishment which they 
 can consume without exertion and assimilate with- 
 out difficulty. Their structure is of the simplest 
 kind. Their host sees for them, so they need no 
 eyes ; he hears for them, so they need no ears ; he 
 works for them and contrives for them, so they 
 need but feeble muscles and an undeveloped ner-
 
 SUMMARY AND CONCLUSION OF PART I 83 
 
 voiis system. But are we to conclude from this that 
 for the animal kingdom eyes and ears, powerful 
 limbs and complex nerves, are superfluities? They 
 are superfluities for the parasite only because they 
 have first been necessities for the host, and when 
 the host perishes the parasite, in their absence, is 
 not unlikely to perish also. 
 
 So it is with those persons who claim to show by 
 their example that naturalism is practically consistent 
 with the maintenance of ethical ideals with which 
 naturalism has no natural affinity. Their spiritual 
 life is parasitic : it is sheltered by convictions which 
 belong, not to them, but to the society of which they 
 form a part ; it is nourished by processes in which 
 they take no share. And when those convictions 
 decay, and those processes come to an end, the alien 
 life which they have maintained can scarce be ex- 
 pected to outlast them. 
 
 I am not aware that anyone has as yet en- 
 deavoured to construct the catechism of the future, 
 purged of every element drawn from any other 
 source than the naturalistic creed. It is greatly to 
 be desired that this task should be undertaken in an 
 impartial spirit; and as a small contribution to such 
 an object, I offer the following pairs of contrasted 
 propositions, the first members of each pair repre- 
 senting current teaching, the second representing the 
 teachin": which ouarht to be substituted for it if the 
 naturalistic theory be accepted. 
 
 A. The universe is the creation oi Reason, and
 
 84 SUMMARY AND CONCLUSION OF PART I 
 
 all things work together towards a reasonable 
 end. 
 
 B. So far as we are concerned, reason is to be 
 found neither in the beginning of things nor in their 
 end ; and though everything is predetermined, noth- 
 ing- is fore-ordained. 
 
 A. Creative reason is interfused with infinite 
 love. 
 
 B. As reason is absent, so also is love. The uni- 
 versal flux is ordered by blind causation alone. 
 
 A. There is a moral law, immutable, eternal ; in 
 its governance all spirits find their true freedom 
 and their most perfect realisation. Though it be 
 adequate to infinite goodness and infinite intelligence, 
 it may be understood, even by man, sufficiently for 
 his guidance. 
 
 B. Among the causes by which the course of 
 organic and social development has been blindly 
 determined are pains, pleasures, instincts, appetites, 
 disgusts, religions, moralities, superstitions ; the senti- 
 ment of what is noble and intrinsically worthy ; the 
 sentiment of what is ignoble and intrinsically worth- 
 less. From a purely scientific point of view these 
 all stand on an equality ; all are action -producing 
 causes developed, not to improve, but simply to 
 perpetuate, the species. 
 
 A. In the possession of reason and in the enjoy- 
 ment of beauty, we in some remote way share the 
 nature of that infinite Personality in Whom we live 
 and move and have our being.
 
 SUMMARY AND CONCLUSION OF PART I 85 
 
 B. Reason is but the psychological expression 
 of certain physiological processes in the cerebral 
 hemispheres ; it is no more than an expedient among 
 many expedients by which the individual and the 
 race are preserved ; just as Beauty is no more than 
 the name for such varying and accidental attributes 
 of the material or moral worlds as may happen for 
 the moment to stir our aesthetic feelings. 
 
 A. Every human soul is of infinite value, eternal, 
 free ; no human being, therefore, is so placed as not 
 to have within his reach, in himself and others, ob- 
 jects adequate to infinite endeavour. 
 
 B. The individual perishes ; the race itself does 
 not endure. Few can flatter themselves that their 
 conduct has any effect whatever upon its remoter 
 destinies; and of those few, none can say with 
 reasonable assurance that the effect which they are 
 destined to produce is the one which they desire. 
 Even if we were free, therefore, our ignorance 
 would make us helpless ; and it may be almost a con- 
 solation to reflect that our conduct was determined 
 for us by the distribution of unthinking forces in 
 pre-solar asons, and that if we are impotent to fore- 
 see its consequences, we were not less impotent to 
 arrange its causes. 
 
 The doctrines embodied in the second member 
 of each of these alternatives may be true, or may 
 at least represent the nearest approacii to truth ot 
 which we are at present capable. Into this question 
 I do not yet inquire. But if they are to constitute
 
 86 SUMMARY AND CONCLUSION OF PART I 
 
 the dogmatic scaffolding by which our educational 
 system is to be supported ; if it is to be in harmony 
 with principles like these that the child is to be 
 taught at its mother's knee, and the young man is to 
 build up the ideals of his life, then, unless I greatly 
 mistake, it will be found that the inner discord which 
 exists, and which must gradually declare itself, be- 
 tween the emotions proper to naturalism and those 
 which have actually grown up under the shadow of 
 traditional convictions, will at no distant date most 
 unpleasantly translate itself into practice.
 
 PART II 
 
 SOME REASONS FOR BELIEF
 
 CHAPTER 1 
 
 THE nilLOSOPHIC BASIS OF NATURALISM 
 
 So far we have been occupied in weighing certain 
 indirect and collateral consequences which seem 
 likely to flow from a particular theory of the world 
 in which we live. The theory itself was taken for 
 granted. No attempt was made to examine its 
 foundations or to test their strength ; no compari- 
 son between its different parts was instituted for 
 the purpose of determining how far they really con- 
 stituted a coherent and intelligible whole. We 
 accepted it as we found it, turning with averted 
 eyes even from the speculative problems which lay 
 closest to the track of our immediate investigation. 
 This course is not the most logical; and it might 
 appear a more fitting procedure to reserve our con- 
 sideration of the consequences of a system until 
 some conclusion had been arrived at concerning 
 its truth. Such, liowever, is not the ordinary habit 
 of mankind in dealing with problems in which 
 questions of abstract theory and daily practice are 
 closely intertwined ; and even philosophers show a 
 kindly reluctance too closely to examine the claims
 
 90 THE PHILOSOPHIC BASIS OF NATURALISM 
 
 of creeds whose consequences are in strict accord 
 with contemporary sentiment. I have a better rea- 
 son, however, to offer for the order here selected 
 than can be derived from precedent or example, a 
 reason based on the fact that, had I begun these 
 Notes with the discussion on which 1 am about to 
 embark, their whole character would probably have 
 been misunderstood. They would have been re- 
 garded as contributions to philosophical discussion 
 of a kind which would only interest the specialist ; 
 and the general reader, to whom I desire partic- 
 ularly to appeal, would have abandoned their peru- 
 sal in disgust. For I cannot deny, either that I 
 am about to ask him to accompany me in a search 
 after first principles ; or (which is, perhaps, worse) 
 that the search is destined to be ineffectual. He 
 will not only have to occupy himself with argu- 
 ments of a remote and abstract kind, and for a 
 moment to disturb the placid depths of ordinary 
 thought with unaccustomed soundings, but the ar- 
 guments will be to all appearance barren, and the 
 soundings will not find bottom. The full justifi- 
 cation for a procedure seemingly so futile can only 
 be found in the chapters which follow, and in the 
 general drift of the discussion taken as a whole ; but 
 in the meanwhile the reader will be able to appre- 
 ciate my immediate object if he will bear in mind 
 the precise point at which we have arrived. 
 
 Let him remember, then, that the result of the 
 inquiry instituted into the practical tendencies of
 
 THE PHILOSOPHIC BASIS OF NATURALISM 91 
 
 the naturalistic theory is to show them to be well- 
 nigh intolerable. The theory, no doubt, may for 
 all that be true, since it must candidly be admitted 
 that there is no naturalistic reason for anticipating 
 any pre-established harmony between truth and ex- 
 pediency in the higher regions of speculation. But 
 at least we are called upon to make a very search- 
 ing inquiry before we admit that it is true. We are 
 not here concerned with any mere curiosity of dia- 
 lectics, with the quest for a kind of knowledge 
 which, however interesting to the few, yet bears no 
 fruit for ordinary human use. On the contrary, the 
 issues that have to be decided are practical, if any- 
 thing is practical. They touch at every point the 
 most permanent interests of man, individual and 
 social ; and any procedure is preferable to a com- 
 placent acquiescence in the loss of all the fairest 
 provinces in our spiritual inheritance. 
 
 This is a fact which has long been perceived by 
 the defenders of all the creeds, philosophical or 
 theological, with which the pretensions of natural- 
 ism are in conflict. You will not open a modern 
 work of apologetics, for instance, without finding in 
 it some endeavour to show that the naturalistic 
 theory is insufficient, and that it requires to be sup- 
 plemented by precisely the very system in whose 
 interests that particular work was written. This, 
 no doubt, is as it should be; and on this plan a great 
 deal of valuable criticism and interesting specula- 
 tion has been produced. It is not, however, exactly
 
 92 THE PHILOSOPHIC BASIS OF NATURALISM 
 
 the plan which can be here pursued, partly because 
 these Notes contain, not a system of theology, but 
 only an introduction to theology ; and partly be- 
 cause I have always found it easier to satisfy my- 
 self of the insufficiency of naturalism than of the 
 absolute sufficiency of any of the schemes by which 
 it has been sought to modify or to complete it. 
 
 In this chapter, however, I shall follow an easier 
 line of march, the naiure of which the reader will 
 readily understand if he considers the two elements 
 composing the naturalistic creed : the one positive, 
 consisting, broadly speaking, of the teaching con- 
 tained in the general body of the natural sciences ; 
 the other negative, expressed in the doctrine that 
 beyond these limits, wherever they may happen to 
 lie, nothing is, and nothing can be, known. Now, 
 the usual practice with those who dissent from this 
 general view is, as I have said, to choose the sec- 
 ond, or negative, half of it for attack. They tell us, 
 for example, that the knowledge of phenomena 
 given by science carries with it by necessary impli- 
 cation the knowledge of that which is above phe- 
 nomena; or, again, that the moral nature of man 
 points to the reality of ends and principles which 
 cannot be exhausted by any investigation into a 
 merely natural world of causally related objects. 
 Without the least underrating such lines of investi- 
 gation, I purpose here to consider, not the negative, 
 but the positive half of the naturalistic system. I 
 shall leave for the moment unchallenged the state-
 
 THE PHILOSOPHIC BASIS OF NATURALISM 93 
 
 ment that beyond the natural sciences knowledge is 
 impossible ; but I shall venture, instead, to ask a few 
 questions as to the character of the knowledge 
 which is thought to be obtained within those limits. 
 I shall not endeavour to prove that a scheme of 
 merely positive beliefs, admirable, no doubt, as far 
 as it goes, is yet intellectually insufificient unless it 
 be supplemented by a metaphysical or theological 
 appendix. But I shall examine the foundations of 
 the scheme itself; and though such criticisms on it 
 as I shall be able to offer can never be a substitute 
 for the real work of philosophic construction, they 
 would seem to be its fitting preliminary, and one 
 which the succeeding chapters may show to be not 
 without a profit of its own. 
 
 One great metaphysician has described the sys- 
 tem of another as ' shot out of a pistol,' meaning 
 thereby that it was presented for acceptance with- 
 out introductory proof. The criticism is true not 
 only of the particular theory of the Absolute about 
 which it was first used, but about every system, or 
 almost every system, of belief which has ever passed 
 current among mankind. Some subtle analogy with 
 accepted doctrines, some general harmony with ex- 
 isting sentiments and modes of thought, has not un- 
 commonly been deemed sufficient to justify the most 
 audacious conjectures ; and the history of specula- 
 tion is littered with theories whose authors seem 
 never to have suffered under an}- overmastering need 
 to prove the opinions which they advanced. No
 
 94 THE PHILOSOPHIC BASIS OF NATURALISM 
 
 such overmastering need has, at least, been felt in 
 the case of 'positive knowledge,' and the very cir- 
 cumstance that, alike in its methods and in its results, 
 all men are practically agreed to accept it without 
 demur, has blinded them to the fact that it, too, has 
 been ' shot out of a pistol,' and that, like some more 
 questionable beliefs, it is still waiting for a rational 
 justification. 
 
 For our too easy acquiescence in this state of 
 things I do not think science is itself to blame. It is 
 no part of its duty to deal with first principles. Its 
 business is to provide us with a theory of Nature ; 
 and it should not be required, in addition, to pro- 
 vide us with a theory of itself. This is a task which 
 properly devolves upon the masters of speculation ; 
 though it is one which, for various reasons, they have 
 not as yet satisfactorily accomplished. I doubt, in- 
 deed, whether any metaphysical philosopher before 
 Kant can be said to have made contributions to this 
 subject which at the present day need be taken into 
 serious account ; and, as I shall endeavour to indicate 
 in the next chapter, Kant's doctrines, even as modi- 
 fied by his successors, do not, so it seems to me, pro- 
 vide a sound basis for an ' epistemology of Nature.' 
 
 But if in this connection we owe little to the 
 metaphysical philosophers, we owe still less to those 
 in whom we had a better right to trust, namely, the 
 empirical ones. If the former have to some extent 
 neglected the theory of science for theories of the 
 Absolute, the latter have always shown an inclination
 
 THE PHILOSOPHIC BASIS OF NATURALISM 95 
 
 to sacrifice the theory of knowledge itself to theories 
 as to the genesis or growth of knowledge. They 
 have contented themselves with investisfatinir the 
 primitive elements from which have been developed 
 in the race and in the individual the completed 
 consciousness of ourselves and of the world in which 
 we live. They have, therefore, dealt with the origins 
 of what we believe rather than with its justification. 
 They have substituted psychology for philosophy ; 
 they have presented us, in short, with studies in a 
 particular branch or department of science, rather 
 than with an examination into the grounds of science 
 in general. And when perforce they are brought 
 face to face with some of the problems connected 
 with the philosophy of science which most loudly 
 clamour for solution, there is something half-pathetic 
 and half-humorous in their methods of cutting a knot 
 which they are quite unable to untie. Can anything, 
 for example, be more naive than the undisturbed 
 serenity with which Locke, towards the end of his 
 great work, assures his readers that he ' suspects that 
 natural philosophy is not capable of being made a 
 science'; or, as I should prefer to state it, that nat- 
 ural science is not capable ol being made a philoso- 
 phy ? Or can anything be more characteristic than 
 the moral which he draws from this rather surprising 
 admission, name!}, Ihat as we are so little fitted to 
 frame theories about lliis present world, we had bet- 
 ter devote our energies to preparing for the next ? 
 This remarkable display (^f i)hilosophic resignation
 
 96 THE PHILOSOPHIC BASIS OF NATURALISM 
 
 in the father of modern empiricism has been imi- 
 tated, with differences, by a long line of distin- 
 guished successors. Hume, for example, though 
 naturally enough he declined to draw Locke's edify- 
 ing conclusion, did more than anyone else to estab- 
 lish Locke's despairing premise ; and his inferences 
 from it are at least equally singular. Having re- 
 duced our belief in the fundamental principles of sci- 
 entific interpretation to expectations born of habit ; 
 having reduced the world which is to be interpreted 
 to an unrelated series of impressions and ideas ; hav- 
 ing by this double process made experience impossi- 
 ble and turned science into foolishness, he quietly 
 informs us, as the issue of the whole matter, that 
 outside experience and science knowledge is impos- 
 sible, and that all except ' mathematical demonstra- 
 tion ' and 'experimental reasoning' on 'matters of 
 fact ' is sophistr}' and illusion ! 
 
 1 think too well of Hume's speculative genius 
 and too ill of his speculative sincerity to doubt that 
 in making this statement he spoke, not as a philoso- 
 pher, but as a man of the world, making formal 
 obeisance to the powers that be. But what he said 
 half ironically, his followers have said with an un- 
 shaken seriousness. Nothing in the history of specu- 
 lation is more astonishing, nothing — if I am to speak 
 my whole mind — is more absurd than the way in 
 which Hume's philosophic progeny — a most distin- 
 guished race — have, in spite of all their differences, 
 yet been able to agree, both that experience is essen-
 
 THE PHILOSOPHIC BASIS OF NATURALISM 97 
 
 tially as Hume described it, and that from such an 
 experience can be rationally extracted anything even 
 in the remotest degree resembling the existing sys- 
 tem of the natural sciences. Like Locke, these p-en- 
 tlemen, or some of them, have, indeed, been assailed 
 by momentary misgivings. It seems occasionally to 
 have occurred to them that if their theory of knowl- 
 edge were adequate, ' experimental reasoning,' as 
 Hume called it, was in a very parlous state ; and 
 that, on the merits, nothing less deserved to be 
 held with a positive conviction than what some of 
 them are wont to describe as 'positive' knowledge. 
 But they have soon thrust away such unwelcome 
 thoughts. The self-satisfied dogmatism which is so 
 convenient, and, indeed, so necessary a habit in the 
 daily routine of life, has resumed its sway. They 
 have forgotten that they were philosophers, and 
 with true practical instincts have reserved their 'ob- 
 stinate questionings ' exclusively for the benefit of 
 opinions from which they were already predisposed 
 to differ. 
 
 Whether these historic reasons fully account for 
 the comparative neglect of a philosophy of science 
 I will not venture to pronounce. But that the 
 neglect has been real I cannot doubt. Admirable 
 generalisations of the actual methods of scientific 
 research, usually under some such name as ' Induc- 
 tive Logic,' we have no doubt had in abundance. 
 But a lull and systematic attempt, first to enumerate, 
 and tiien to justify, the presuppositions on which all 
 7
 
 98 THE PHILOSOPHIC BASIS OF NATURALISM 
 
 science finally rests, has, it seems to me, still to be 
 made, and must form no insignificant or secondary 
 portion of the task which philosophy has yet to 
 perform. To some, perhaps to most, it may, indeed, 
 appear as if such a task were one of perverse fu- 
 tility ; not more useful and much less dignified than 
 metaphysical investigations into the nature of the 
 Absolute. However profitless in the opinion of the 
 objector these may be, at least it seems better to 
 strain after the transcendent than to demonstrate 
 the obvious. And science, it may well be thought, 
 is quite sure enough of its ground to be justified in 
 politely bowing out those who thus officiously ten- 
 der it a perfectly superfluous assistance. 
 
 This is a contention on the merits of which it 
 will only be possible to pronounce after the critical 
 examination into the presuppositions of science 
 which I desiderate has been thoroughly carried out. 
 It may then appear that nothing stands more in need 
 of demonstration than the obvious ; that at the very 
 root of our scientific system of belief lie problems of 
 which no satisfactory solution has hitherto been 
 devised ; and that, so far from its being possible 
 to ignore the difficulties which these involve, no 
 general theory of knowledge has the least chance of 
 being successful which does not explicitly include 
 within the circuit of its criticism, not only the beliefs 
 which seem to us to be dubious, but those also 
 which we hold with the most perfect practical 
 assurance.
 
 THE PHILOSOPHIC BASIS OF NATURALISM 99 
 
 So much, at least, I have endeavoured to estab- 
 lish in another work to which reference has been 
 already made.^ And to this I must venture to refer 
 those readers who either wish to see this position 
 elaborately developed, or who arc of opinion that I 
 have in the preceding remarks treated the philosophy 
 of the empirical school with too scant a measure of 
 respect. The very technical discussion, however, 
 which it contains could not, I think, be made inter- 
 esting, or perhaps intelligible, to the majority of those 
 for whom this book is intended, and, even were it 
 otherwise, they could not appropriately be intro- 
 duced into the body of these Notes. Yet, though 
 this is impossible, it ought not, I think, to be quite 
 impossible to convey some general notion of the 
 sort of difficulty with which any empirical theory 
 of science woidd seem to be beset, and this without 
 requiring on the part of the reader any special 
 knowledge of philosophic terminology, or, indeed, 
 any know ledge at all except that of some few very 
 general scientific doctrines. If I coidd succeed, 
 however imperfectly, in such a task, it might be of 
 some slight service even to the reader conversant 
 with cm])irical theories in all their various forms. 
 I'"or though he will, of course, recognise in what 
 folhjws the familiar faces of many old controversies, 
 the circumstance tlial llicy are here approached, not 
 from tlie accustomed side ol the psychology of per- 
 cepti(jn, but Irom that ol ])h)-sics and physiology, 
 
 ' Cf. l'refat(jry Note.
 
 lOO THE PHILOSOPHIC BASIS OF NATURALISM 
 
 may perhaps give them a freshness they would not 
 otherwise possess. 
 
 II 
 
 In order to fix our ideas let us recall, in however 
 rough and incomplete a form, the broad outlines of 
 scientific doctrine as it at present exists, and as it 
 has been developed from that unorganised knowl- 
 edge of a world of objects — animals, mountains, men, 
 planets, trees, water, fire, and so forth — which in some 
 degree or other all mankind possess. These objects 
 science conceives as ordered and mutually related 
 in one unlimited space and one unlimited time ; all 
 in their true reality independent of the presence or 
 absence of any observer, all governed in their be- 
 haviour by rigid and unvarying laws. These are its 
 material ; these it is its business to describe. Their 
 appearance, their inner constitution, their environ- 
 ment, the process of their development, the modes 
 in which they act and are acted upon — such and 
 such-like subjects of inquiry constitute the problems 
 which science has set itself to investigate. 
 
 The result of its investigations is now embodied 
 in a general, if provisional, view of the (phenomenal) 
 universe which is practically accepted without ques- 
 tion by all instructed persons. According to this 
 view, the world consists essentially of innumerable 
 small particles of definite and unchanging mass, 
 endowed with a variety of mechanical, chemical, and
 
 THE PHILOSOPHIC BASIS OF NATURALISM TOT 
 
 Other qualities, and forming- by their mutual asso- 
 ciation the various bodies which we can handle and 
 see, and many others which we can neither handle 
 nor see. These ponderable particles have their being 
 in a diffused and all-penetrating medium, or ether, of 
 which wc know little, except that it possesses, or 
 behaves as if it possessed, certain mechanical prop- 
 erties of a very remarkable character ; while the 
 whole of this material ^ system, ponderable particles 
 and ether alike, is animated (if the phrase may be 
 permitted me) by a quantity of energy which, though 
 it varies in the manner and place of its manifestation, 
 yet never varies in its total amount. It only remains 
 to add, as a fact of considerable importance to our- 
 selves, though of little apparent importance to the 
 universe at large, that a few of the material particles 
 above alluded to are arranged into living organisms, 
 and that among these organisms are a small minority 
 which have the remarkable power of extracting from 
 the changes which take place in certain of their 
 tissues psychical phenomena of various kinds ; some 
 of which are the reflection, or partial reproduction 
 in perception and in thought, of fragments and 
 
 ' This ambiguity in the use of the word ' matter ' is apt to be a 
 nuisance in these discussions. The term is sometimes, and quite 
 jjroperly, used only of ponderable matter, and in opposition to ether, 
 ikit when we talk of the ' material universe,' it is absurd to exclude 
 from our meaning the ether, which is the most important part of that 
 universe, or to deny materiality to a substance which behaves as if 
 it were an elastic solid. The context will, I hope, always show in 
 which sense the word is used.
 
 I02 THE PHILOSOPHIC BASIS OF NATURALISM 
 
 aspects of that material world to which they owe 
 their being. 
 
 Secure in this general view of things, the great 
 co-operative work of scientific investigation moves 
 swiftly on. The experimental psychologist, if we 
 are to begin at that end of the scale, measures 
 ' time reactions,' and other equally important mat- 
 ters illustrating the relations of mind and body ; the 
 physiologist endeavours to surprise the secrets of 
 the living organ ; the biologist traces the develop- 
 ment of the individual and the mutations of the 
 species ; the chemist searches out the laws which 
 govern the combination and reactions of atoms and 
 molecules; the astronomer investigates the move- 
 ments and the life -histories of suns and planets; 
 while the physicist explores the inmost mysteries of 
 matter and energy, not unprepared to discover be- 
 hind the invisible particles and the insensible move- 
 ments with which he familiarly deals, explanations 
 of the material universe yet more remote from the 
 unsophisticated perceptions of ordinary mankind. 
 
 The philosophic reader is of course aware that 
 many of the terms which I have used, and been 
 obliged to use, in this outline of the scientific view 
 of the universe may be, and have been, subjected to 
 philosophic analysis, and often with very curious 
 results. Space, time, matter, energy, cause, quality, 
 idea, perception — all these, to mention no others, are 
 expressions without the aid of which no account 
 could be given of the circle of the sciences ; though
 
 THE PHILOSOPHIC BASIS OF NATURALISM IO3 
 
 every one of them suggests a multitude of specula- 
 tive problems, of which speculation has not as yet 
 succeeded in giving us the final and decisive solu- 
 tion. These problems, for the most part, however, 
 I put on one side. I take these terms as I find 
 them ; in the sense, that is, which everybody attrib- 
 utes to them until he begins to puzzle himself with 
 too curious inquiries into their precise meaning. 
 No such embarrassing investigations do I wish to 
 impose upon my reader. It shall be agreed be- 
 tween us that the body of doctrine summarised 
 above is, so far as it goes, clear and intelligible; and 
 all I shall now require of him is to look at it from a 
 new point of view, to approach it, as it were, from a 
 different side, to study it with a new intention. In- 
 stead, then, of asking what are the beliefs which 
 science inculcates, let us ask why, in the last resort, 
 we hold them to be true. Instead of inquiring how 
 a thing happens, or what it is, let us inquire how we 
 know that it does thus happen, and why we believe 
 that so in truth it is. Instead of enumerating 
 causes, let us set ourselves to investigate reasons. 
 
 Ill 
 
 Now it is at once evident that the very same 
 general body of doctrines, the very same set of prop- 
 ositions about the * natural ' world, arranged ac- 
 cording to the principles suggested by these ques- 
 tions, would fall into a wholly different order from
 
 I04 THE PHILOSOPHIC BASIS OF NATURALISM 
 
 that which would be observed if its distribution 
 were governed merely by considerations based upon 
 the convenience of scientific exposition. Indeed, 
 we may say that there are at least four quite dif- 
 ferent orders, theoretically distinguishable, though 
 usually mixed up in practice, in which scientific 
 truth may be expounded. There is, first, the order 
 of discovery. This is governed by no rational prin- 
 ciple, but depends on historic causes, on the acci- 
 dents of individual genius and the romantic chances 
 of experiment and observation. There is, secondly, 
 the rhetorical order, useful enough in its proper 
 place, in which, for example, we proceed from the 
 simple to the difficult, or from the striking to the 
 important, according to the needs of the hearer. 
 There is, thirdly, the scientific order, in which, 
 could we only bring it to perfection, we should pro- 
 ceed from the abstract to the concrete, and from the 
 general law to the particular instance, until the 
 whole world of phenomena was gradually presented 
 to our gaze as a closely woven tissue of causes and 
 effects, infinite in its complexity, incessant in its 
 changes, yet at each moment proclaiming to those 
 who can hear and understand the certain prophecy 
 of its future and the authentic record of its past. 
 Lastly, there is what, according to the terminology 
 here employed, must be called the philosophic or- 
 der, in which the various scientific propositions or 
 dogmas are, or rather should be, arranged as a 
 series of premises and conclusions, starting from
 
 THE PHILOSOPHIC BASIS OF NATURALISM 105 
 
 tliose which are axiomatic, i.e. for which \nooi can 
 be neither i^iven nor required, and moving on 
 through a continuous series of binding inferences, 
 until the whole of knowledge is caught up and 
 ordered in the meshes of this all-inclusive dialectical 
 network. 
 
 In its perfected shape it is evident that the 
 philosophic series, though it reaches out to the 
 furthest confines of the known, must for each man 
 trace its origin to something which he can regard as 
 axiomatic and self-evident truth. There is no theo- 
 retical escape for any of us from the ultimate * I.' 
 What ' r believe as conclusive must be drawn, by 
 some process which ' I ' accept as cogent, from 
 something which ' I ' am obliged to regard as intrin- 
 sically self-sufficient, beyond the reach of criticism 
 or the need for proof. The philosophic order and 
 the scientific order of statement, therefore, cannot 
 fail to be wholly different. While the scientific or- 
 der may start with the dogmatic enunciation of 
 some great generalisation valid through the whole 
 unmeasured range of the material universe, the philo- 
 sophic order is perforce compelled to find its point of 
 departure in the humble personality of the inquirer. 
 His grounds of belief, not the things believed in, 
 are the subject-matter uf investigation. His reason, 
 or, if you like to have it so, his share of the Univer- 
 sal Reason, but in any case something which is /lis, 
 must sit in judgment, and must try the cause. The 
 rights of this tribunal are inalienable, its authority'
 
 I06 THE PHILOSOPHIC BASIS OF NATURALISM 
 
 incapable of delegation ; nor is there any superior 
 court by which the verdict it pronounces can be 
 reversed. 
 
 If now the question were asked, ' On what sort 
 of premises rests ultimately the scientific theory 
 of the world?' science and empirical philosophy, 
 though they might not agree on the meaning of 
 terms, would agree in answering, * On premises 
 supplied by experience.' It is experience which has 
 given us our first real knowledge of Nature and her 
 laws. It is experience, in the shape of observation 
 and experiment, which has given us the raw material 
 out of which hypothesis and inference have slowly 
 elaborated that richer conception of the material 
 world which constitutes perhaps the chief, and cer- 
 tainly the most characteristic, glory of the modern 
 mind. 
 
 What, then, is this experience ? or, rather, let us 
 ask (so as to avoid the appearance of trenching on 
 Kantian ground) what are these experiences ? These 
 experiences, the experiences on which are alike 
 founded the practice of the savage and the theories 
 of the man of science, are for the most part observa- 
 tions of material things or objects, and of their be- 
 haviour in the presence of or in relation to each 
 other. These on the empiricalt heory of knowledge, 
 supply the direct information, the immediate data 
 from which all our wider knowledge ultimately 
 draws its sanction. Behind these it is impossible 
 to go ; impossible, but also unnecessary. For as
 
 THE PHILOSOPHIC BASIS OF NATURALISM \OJ 
 
 the ' evidence of the senses ' does not derive its 
 authority from any higher source, so it is useless to 
 dispute its full and indefeasible title to command our 
 assent. According to this view, which is thoroughly 
 in accordance with common-sense, science rests in 
 the main upon the immediate judgments we form 
 about natural objects in the act of seeing, hearing, 
 and handling them. This is the solid, if somewhat 
 narrow, platform which provides us with a foothold 
 whence we may reach u})ward into regions where 
 the ' senses ' convey to us no direct knowledge, 
 where we have to do with laws remote from our 
 personal observation, and with objects which can 
 neither be seen, heard, nor handled. 
 
 IV 
 
 But although such a theory seems simple and 
 straightforward enough, in perfect harmony with the 
 habitual sentiments and the universal practice of 
 mankind, it would evidently be rash to rest satisfied 
 with it as a philosophy of science until we had at 
 least heard what science itself has to say upon the 
 subject. What, then, is the account which science 
 gives of these ' immediate judgments of the senses ' ? 
 Has it anything to tell us about their nature, or the 
 mode of their operation ? Without doubt it has ; 
 and its teaching provides a curious, and at first 
 sight an even startling, commentary on the com- 
 mon-sense version of that philosophy of experience
 
 I08 THE PHILOSOPHIC BASIS OF NATURALISM 
 
 whose general character has just been indicated 
 above. 
 
 For whereas common-sense tells us that our ex- 
 perience of objects provides us with a knowledge of 
 their nature which, so far as it goes, is immediate 
 and direct, science informs us that each particular 
 experience is itself but the final link in a long chain 
 of causes and effects, whose beginning is lost amid 
 the complexities of the material world, and whose 
 ending is a change of some sort in the ' mind ' of 
 the percipient. It informs us, further, that among 
 these innumerable causes, the thing 'immediately 
 experienced ' is but one ; and is, moreover, one 
 separated from the 'immediate experience' which it 
 modestly assists in producing by a very large num- 
 ber of intermediate causes which are never experi- 
 enced at all. 
 
 Take, for example, an ordinary case of vision. 
 What are the causes which ultimately produce the 
 apparently immediate experience of (for example) a 
 green tree standing in the nex;t field ? There are, 
 .first (to go no further back), the vibrations among 
 the particles of the source of light, say the sun. 
 Consequent on them are the ethereal undulations 
 between the sun and the objects seen, namely, the 
 green tree. Then follows the absorption of most of 
 these undulations by the object ; the reflection of the 
 ' green ' residue ; the incidence of a small fraction of 
 these on the lens of the eye ; their arrangement on 
 the retina ; the stimulation of the optic nerve ; and.
 
 THE PHILOSOPHIC BASIS OF NATURALISM IO9 
 
 finally, the molecular change in a certain tract of the 
 cerebral hemispheres by which, in some way or 
 other wholly unknown, through predispositions in 
 part acquired by the individual, but chiefly inherited 
 through countless generations of ancestors, is pro- 
 duced the complex mental fact which we describe by 
 saying that ' we have an immediate experience of a 
 tree about fifty yards off.' 
 
 Now the experience, the causes and conditions of 
 which I have thus rudely outlined, is typical of all 
 the experiences, without exception, on which is based 
 our knowledge of the material universe. Some of 
 these experiences, no doubt, are incorrect. The 
 'evidence of the senses,' as the phrase goes, proves 
 now and then to be fallacious. But it is proved to 
 be fallacious by other evidence of precisely the same 
 kind ; and if we take the trouble to trace back far 
 enough our reasons for believing any scientific truth 
 whatever, they alwa3'S end in some 'immediate 
 experience ' or experiences of the type described 
 above. 
 
 But the comparison thus inevitably suggested be- 
 tween 'immediate experiences' considered as the 
 ultimate basis of all scientific belief, and immediate 
 experience considered as an insignificant and, so to 
 speak, casual product of natural laws, suggests some 
 curious reflections. I do not allude to the difficulty 
 (j| understanding how a mental effect can be pro- 
 duced by a ])hysical cause — how matter can act on 
 mind. The problem I wish to dwell on is of cpiite
 
 no THE PHILOSOPHIC BASIS OF NATURALISM 
 
 a different kind. It is concerned, not with the nat- 
 ure of the laws by which the world is governed, but 
 with their proof. It arises, not out of the difficulty 
 of feeling our way slowly along the causal chain 
 from physical antecedents to mental consequents, 
 but from the difficulty of harmonising this move- 
 ment with the opposite one, whereby we jump by 
 some instantaneous effort of inferential activity from 
 these mental consequents to an immediate conviction 
 as to the reality and character of some of their re- 
 moter physical antecedents. I am * experiencing ' 
 (to revert to our illustration) the tree in the next 
 field. While looking at it I begin to reflect upon 
 the double process I have just described. I remem- 
 ber the long-drawn series of causes, physical and 
 physiological, by which my perception of the object 
 has been produced. I realise that each one of these 
 causes might have been replaced by some other 
 cause without altering the character of the conse- 
 quent perception ; and that if it had been so re- 
 placed, my judgment about the object, though it 
 would have been as confident and as immediate as 
 at present, would have been wrong. Anything, for 
 instance, which would distribute similar green rays 
 on the retina of my eyes in the same pattern as that 
 produced by the tree, or anything which would pro- 
 duce a like irritation of the optic nerve or a like 
 modification of the cerebral tissues, would give me 
 an experience in itself quite indistinguishable from 
 my experience of the tree, although it has the unfort-
 
 THE PHILOSOPHIC BASIS OF NATURALISM III 
 
 unate peculiarity of being wholly incorrect. The 
 same message would be delivered, in the same terms 
 and on the same authority, but it would be false. 
 And though we are quite familiar with the fact that 
 illusions are possible and that mistakes will occur in 
 the simplest observation, yet we can hardly avoid 
 being struck by the incongruity of a scheme of be- 
 lief whose premises are wdiolly derived from wit- 
 nesses admittedly untrustworthy, )^et which is un- 
 able to supply any criterion, other than the evidence 
 of these witnesses themselves, by which the char- 
 acter of their evidence can in any given case be de- 
 termined. 
 
 The fact that even the most immediate experi- 
 ences carry with them no inherent guarantee of their 
 veracity is, however, by far the smallest of the diffi- 
 culties which emerge from a comparison of the causal 
 movement from object to perception, with the cogni- 
 tive leap through perception to object. For a very 
 slight consideration of the teaching of science as to 
 the nature of the first is sufficient to prove, not merely 
 the possible, but the habitual inaccuracy of the second. 
 In other words, we need only to consider carefully 
 our perceptions regarded as psychological results, in 
 order to see that, regarded as sources of information, 
 they are not merely occasionally inaccurate, but ha- 
 bitually mendacious. We are dealing, recollect, with 
 a theory of science according to which the ultimate 
 stress of scientific proof is thrown wholly upon our 
 immediate experience of objects. But nine-tenths
 
 112 THE PHILOSOPHIC BASIS OF NATURALISM 
 
 of our immediate experiences of objects are visual ; 
 and all visual experiences, without exception, are, 
 according to science, erroneous. As everybody 
 knows, colour is not a property of the thing seen : 
 it is a sensation produced in us by that thing. The 
 thing itself consists of uncoloured particles, which 
 become visible solely in consequence of their power 
 of either producing or reflecting ethereal undula- 
 tions. The degrees of brightness and the qualities 
 of colour perceived in the thing, and in virtue of 
 which alone any visual perception of the thing is 
 possible, are, therefore, according to optics, no part 
 of its reality, but are mere feelings produced in the 
 mind of the percipient by the complex movements 
 of material molecules, possessing mass and exten- 
 sion, but to which it is not only incorrect but un- 
 meaning to attribute either brightness or colour. 
 
 From the side of science these are truisms. 
 From the side of a theor}^ or philosophy of science, 
 however, they are paradoxes. It was sufficiently 
 embarrassing to discover that the message con- 
 veyed to us by sensible experiences which the ob- 
 server treats as so direct and so certain are, when 
 considered in transit, at one moment nothing but 
 vibrations of imperceptible particles, at another 
 nothing but periodic changes in an unimaginable 
 ether, at a third nothing but unknown, and perhaps 
 unknowable, modifications of nervous tissue ; and 
 that none of these various messengers carry with 
 them any warrant that the judgment in which they
 
 THE PHILOSOPHIC BASIS OF NATURALISM II3 
 
 finally issue will prove to be true. But what are we 
 to say about these same experiences when we dis- 
 cover, not only that they may be wholly false, but 
 that they are never wholly true? What sort of a 
 system is that which makes haste to discredit its 
 own premises? In what entanglements of contra- 
 diction do we not find ourselves involved by the 
 attempt to rest science upon observations which 
 science itself asserts to be erroneous? By what 
 possible title do we proclaim the same immediate 
 experience to be right when it testifies to the inde- 
 pendent reality of something solid and extended, 
 and to be wrong when it testifies to the indepen- 
 dent reality of something illuminated and coloured? 
 
 V 
 
 There is, of course, an answer to all this, simple 
 enough if only it be true. The whole theory, it 
 may be said, on which we have been proceeding is 
 untenable, the undigested product of crude com- 
 mon-sense. The bugbear which frightens us is of 
 our own creation. We have no immediate expe- 
 rience of independent things such as has been 
 gratuitously supposed. What science tells us of the 
 colour element in our visual perceptions, namely, 
 that it is merely a feeling or sensation, is true of 
 every element in every perception. We are di- 
 rectly cognisant of nothing but the mental results 
 
 of cerebral changes': all else is a matter of infer- 
 8
 
 114 THE PHILOSOPHIC BASIS OF NATURALISM 
 
 ence; a hypothesis, more or less well established, 
 to account for the existence of the only realities of 
 which we have first-hand experience— namely, the 
 mental results themselves. 
 
 Now this theory does at first sight undoubtedly 
 appear to harmonise with the general teaching of 
 science on the subject of mental physiology. This 
 teaching, as ordinarily expounded, assumes through- 
 out a material world of objects and a psychical 
 world of feelings and ideas. The latter is in all 
 cases the product of the former. In some cases it 
 may be a copy or partial reflection of the former. 
 In no case is it identified with the former. When, 
 therefore, I am in the act of experiencing a tree in 
 the next field, what on this theory I am really doing 
 is inferring from the fact of my having certain feel- 
 ings the existence of a cause having qualities ade- 
 quate to produce them. It is true that the process 
 of inference is so rapid and habitual that we are un- 
 conscious of performing it. It is also true that the 
 inference is quite differently performed by the nat- 
 ural man in his natural moments and the scientific 
 man in his scientific moments. For, whereas the 
 natural man infers the existence of a material object 
 which in all respects resembles his idea of it, the 
 scientific man knows very well that the material ob- 
 ject only resembles his ideas of it in certain partic- 
 ulars — extension, solidity, and so forth — and that 
 in respect of such attributes as colour and illumi- 
 nation there is no resemblance at all. Nevertheless,
 
 THE PHILOSOPHIC BASIS OF NATURALISM II 5 
 
 in all cases, whether there be resemblance between 
 them or not, the material fact is a conclusion from 
 the mental fact, with which last alone we can be 
 said to be, so to speak, in any immediate empirical 
 relation. 
 
 As this theory regarding the sources of our 
 knowledofe of the material world fits in with the 
 habitual language of mental physiology, so also it 
 fits in with the first instincts of speculative analysis. 
 It is, I suppose, one of the earliest discoveries of the 
 metaphj'sically minded youth that he can, if he so 
 wills it, change his point of view, and thereby sud- 
 denly convert what in ordinary moments seem the 
 solid realities of this material universe, into an un- 
 ending pageant of feelings and ideas, moving in 
 long procession across his mental stage, and having 
 from the nature of the case no independent being 
 before they appear, nor retaining any after they 
 vanish. 
 
 But however plausible be this correction of com- 
 mon-sense, it has its difficulties. In the first place, 
 it involves a complete divorce between the practice 
 of science and its theory. It is all very well to say 
 that the scientific account of mental physiology in 
 general, and of sense-perception in particular, re- 
 quires us to hold that what is immediately expe- 
 rienced are mental facts, and that our knowledge of 
 physical facts is but mediate and inferential. Such 
 a conclusion is quite out of harmony with its own 
 premises, since the propositions on which, as a
 
 Il6 THE PHILOSOPHIC BASIS OF NATURALISM 
 
 matter of historical verity, science is ultimately 
 founded are not propositions about states of mind, 
 but about material things. The observations on 
 which are built, for example, our knowledge of anat- 
 omy or our knowledge of chemistry were not, in 
 the opinion of those who originally made them or 
 have since confirmed them, observations of their 
 own feelings, but of objects thought of as wholly 
 independent of the observer. They may have been 
 mistaken. Such observations may be impossible. 
 But, possible or impossible, they were believed to 
 have occurred, and on that belief depends the 
 whole empirical evidence of science as scientific 
 discoverers themselves conceive it. 
 
 The reader will, I hope, understand that I am 
 not here arguing that the theory of experience now 
 under consideration, the theory, that is, which con- 
 fines the field of immediate experience to our oum 
 states of mind, is inconsistent with science, or even 
 that it supplies an inadequate empirical basis for 
 science. On these points I may have a word to say 
 presently. My present contention simply is, that it 
 is not experience tJius understood which has supplied 
 men of science with their knowledge of the physical 
 universe. They have never suspected that, while 
 they supposed themselves to be perceiving inde- 
 pendent material objects, their qualities and their 
 behaviour, they were in reality perceiving quite an- 
 other set of things, namely, feelings and sensations 
 of a particular kind, grouped in particular ways,
 
 THE PHILOSOPHIC BASIS OF NATURALISM II7 
 
 and succeeding each other in a particular order. 
 Nor, if this idea had ever occurred to them, would 
 they have admitted that these two classes of things 
 could by any merely verbal manipulation be made 
 the same. So that if this particular account of the 
 nature of experience be accurate, the system of 
 thought represented by science presents the singu- 
 lar spectacle of a creed which is believed in practice 
 for one set of reasons, though in theory it can only 
 be justified by another; and which, through some 
 beneficent accident, turns out to be true, though 
 its origin and each subsequent stage in its gradual 
 development are the product of error and illusion. 
 
 This is perplexing enough. Yet an even stronger 
 statement would seem to be justified. We must not 
 only say that the experiences on which science is 
 founded have been invariably misinterpreted by those 
 who underwent them, but that, if they had not been 
 so misinterpreted, science as we know it would 
 never have existed. We' have not merely stumbled 
 on the truth in spite of error and illusion, which is 
 odd, but because of error and illusion, which is even 
 odder. For if the scientific observers of Nature had 
 realised from the beginning that all they were observ- 
 ing was their own feelings and ideas, as empirical 
 idealism and mental physiology alike require us to 
 hold, they surely would never have taken the trouble 
 to invent a Nature {i.e. an independently existing 
 system of material things) for no other purpose than 
 to provide a machinery by which the occurrence of
 
 Il8 THE PHILOSOPHIC BASIS OF NATURALISM 
 
 feelings and ideas might be adequately accounted 
 for. To go through so much to get so little, to 
 bewilder themselves in the ever-increasing intricacies 
 of this hypothetical wheel -work, to pile world on 
 world and add infinity to infinity, and all for no more 
 important object than to find an explanation for a 
 few fleeting impressions, say of colour or resistance, 
 would, indeed, have seemed to them a most super- 
 fluous labour. Nor is it possible to doubt that this 
 task has been undertaken and partially accomplished 
 only because humanity has been, as for the most part 
 it still is, under the belief not only that there exists a 
 universe possessing the independence which science 
 and common-sense alike postulate, but that it is a 
 universe immediately, if imperfectly, revealed to us 
 in the deliverances of sense-perception. 
 
 VI 
 
 We can scarcely deny, then, though the paradox 
 be hard of digestion, that, historically speaking, if 
 the theory we are discussing be true, science owes 
 its being to an erroneous view as to what kind of 
 information it is that our experiences directly convey 
 to us. But a much more important question than 
 the merely historical one remains behind, namely, 
 whether, from the kind of information which our ex- 
 periences do thus directly convey to us, anything at 
 all resembling the scientific theory of Nature can be 
 reasonably extracted. Can our revised conception
 
 THE PHILOSOPHIC BASIS OF NATURALISM II9 
 
 of the material world really be inferred from our 
 revised conception of the import and limits of ex- 
 perience? Can we by any possible treatment of 
 sensations and feelings legitimately squeeze out of 
 them trustworthy knowledge of the permanent and 
 independent material universe of which, according 
 to science, sensations and feelings are but transient 
 and evanescent effects ? 
 
 I cannot imagine the process by which such a 
 result may be attained, nor has it been satisfactorily 
 explained to us by any apologist of the empirical 
 theory of knowledge. We may, no doubt, argue 
 that sensations and feelings, like everything else, 
 must have a cause ; that the hypothesis of a material 
 W'Orld suggests such a cause in a form which is 
 agreeable to our natural beliefs ; and that it is a 
 hypothesis we are justified in adopting when we find 
 that it enables us to anticipate the order and char- 
 acter of that stream of perceptions which it is called 
 into existence to explain. But this is a line of argu- 
 ment which really will not bear examination. Every 
 one of the three propositions of which it consists is, 
 if we are to go back to fundamental principles, either 
 disputable or erroneous. The principle of causation 
 cannot be extracted out of a succession of individual 
 experiences, as is implied by the first. The world 
 described by science is not congruous with our 
 natural beliefs, as is alleged by the second. Nor can 
 we legitimately reason back from effect to cause in 
 the manner required by the third.
 
 I20 THE PHILOSOPHIC BASIS OF NATURALISM 
 
 A very brief comment will, 1 think, be sufficient 
 to make this clear, and I proceed to offer it on each of 
 the three propositions, taking them, for convenience, 
 in the reverse order, and beginning, therefore, with 
 the third. This in effect declares that as the material 
 world described by science woidd, if it existed, pro- 
 duce sensations and impressions in the very manner 
 in which our experiences assure us that they actual- 
 ly occur, we may assume that such a world exists. 
 But may we ? Even supposing that there was this 
 complete correspondence between theory and fact, 
 which is far, unfortunately, from being at present 
 the case, are we justified in making so bold a logical 
 leap from the known to the unknown ? I doubt it. 
 Recollect that by hypothesis we are strictly im- 
 prisoned, so far as direct experiences are concerned, 
 within the circle of sensations or impressions. It is 
 in this self-centred universe alone, therefore, that 
 we can collect the premises of further knowledge. 
 How can it possibly supply us with any principles 
 of selection by which to decide between the various 
 kinds of cause that may, for anything we know to 
 the contrary, have had a hand in its production ? 
 None of these kinds of cause are open to observa- 
 tion. All must, from the nature of the case, be 
 purely conjectural. Because, therefore, we happen 
 to have thought of one which, with a little goodwill, 
 can be forced into a rude correspondence with the 
 observed facts, shall we, oblivious of the million 
 possible explanations which a superior intelligence
 
 THE PHILOSOPHIC BASIS OF NATURALISM 121 
 
 might be able to devise, proceed to decorate our 
 particular fancy with the title of the ' Real World ' ? 
 If we do so, it is not, as the candid reader will be 
 prepared to admit, because such a conclusion is 
 justified by such premises, but because we are pre- 
 disposed to a conclusion of this kind by those 
 instinctive beliefs which, in unreflective moments, 
 the philosopher shares with the savage. In such 
 moments all men conceive themselves (by hypoth- 
 esis erroneously) as having direct experiences of 
 an independent material universe. When, therefore, 
 science, or philosophers on behalf of science, pro- 
 ceed to infer such a universe from impressions of 
 extension, resistance, and so forth, they find them- 
 selves, so far, in an unnatural and quite illegitimate 
 alliance with common-sense. By procedures which 
 are different, and essentially inconsistent, the two 
 parties have found it possible to reach results which 
 at first sight look very much the same. Immediate 
 intuitions wrongly interpreted come to the aid of 
 mediate inferences illegitimately constructed ; we 
 find ourselves quite prepared to accept the conclu- 
 sions of bad reasoning, because they have a partial 
 though, as I shall now proceed to show, an illusory 
 resemblance to the deliverances of uncriticised ex- 
 perience. 
 
 This, it will be observed, is the subject dealt 
 with in the second of the three propositions on 
 which I am engaged in commenting. It alleges that 
 the world described by science is congruous with
 
 122 THE PHILOSOPHIC BASIS OF NATURALISM 
 
 our natural beliefs ; a thesis not very important in 
 itself, which I only dwell on now because it affords 
 a convenient text from which to preach the great 
 oddity of the creed which science requires us to 
 adopt respecting the world in which we live. This 
 creed is evidently in its origin an amendment or 
 modification of the natural or instinctive view of 
 things, a compromise to which we are no doubt 
 compelled by considerations of conclusive force, but 
 a compromise, nevertheless, which, if we did not 
 know it to be true, we should certainly find it diffi- 
 cult not to abandon as absurd. 
 
 For, consider what kind of a world it is in which 
 we are asked to believe — a world which, so far as 
 most people are concerned, can only be at all 
 adequately conceived in terms of the visual sense, 
 but which in its true reality possesses neither of the 
 qualities characteristically associated with the visual 
 sense, namely, illumination and colour. A world 
 which is half like our ideas of it and half unlike 
 them. Like our ideas of it, that is to say, so far as 
 the so-called primary qualities of matter, such as 
 extension and solidity, are concerned ; unlike our 
 ideas of it so far as the so-called secondary qualities, 
 such as warmth and colour, are concerned. A 
 hybrid world, a world of inconsistencies and strange 
 anomalies. A world one-half of which may com- 
 mend itself to the empirical philosopher, and the 
 other half of which may commend itself to the plain 
 man, but which as a whole can commend itself to
 
 THE PHILOSOPHIC BASIS OF NAIURALISM 123 
 
 neither. A world which is rejected by the first be- 
 cause it arbitrarily selects what he regards as modes 
 of sensation, and hypostatises them into permanent 
 realities ; while it is scarcely intelligible to the 
 second, because it takes what he regards as perma- 
 nent realities, and evaporates them into modes of 
 sensation. A world, in short, which seems to 
 harmonise neither with the conclusions of critical 
 empiricism nor with the ' unmistakable evidence of 
 the senses ' ; which outrages the whole psychology 
 of the one, and is in direct contradiction with the 
 other. 
 
 So far as the leading philosophic empiricists are 
 concerned — and it is only with them that we need 
 deal — the result of these difificulties has been extra- 
 ordinary. They have found it impossible to swal- 
 low this strange universe, consisting partly of 
 microcosms furnished with impressions and ideas 
 which, as such, are of course transient and essenti- 
 ally mental, partly of a macrocosm furnished with 
 material objects whose qualities exactly resemble 
 impressions and ideas, with the embarrassing ex- 
 ception that they are neither transient nor mental. 
 They have, therefore, been compelled by one device 
 or another to sweep the macrocosm as conceived by 
 science altogether out of existence. In the name of 
 experience itself they have destroyed that which 
 professes to be experience systematised. And we 
 are presented with the singular spectacle of thinkers 
 whose claim to our consideration largely consists in
 
 124 THE PHILOSOPHIC BASIS OF NATURALISM 
 
 their uncompromising empiricism playing uncon- 
 scious havoc with the most solid results which em- 
 pirical methods have hitherto attained. 
 
 I say 'unconscious' havoc, because, no doubt, the 
 truth of this indictment would not be admitted by 
 the majority of those against whom it is directed. 
 Yet there can, I think, be no real question as to its 
 truth. In the case of Hume it will hardly be 
 denied ; and Hume, perhaps, would himself have 
 been the last to deny it. But in the case of John 
 Mill, of Mr. Herbert Spencer,^ and of Professor 
 Huxley, it is an allegation which would certainly be 
 repudiated, though the evidence for it seems to me 
 to lie upon the surface of their speculations. The 
 allegation, be it observed, is this — that while each 
 of these thinkers has recognised the necessity for 
 some independent reality in relation to the ever- 
 moving stream of sensations which constitute our 
 immediate experiences, each of them has rejected 
 the independent reality which is postulated and ex- 
 plained by science, and each of them has substituted 
 for it a private reality of his own. Where the 
 physicist, for example, assumes actual atoms and 
 motions and forces, Mill saw nothing but permanent 
 possibilities of sensation, and Mr. Spencer knows 
 
 ' It is probably accurate to describe Mr. Spencer as an empiri- 
 cist ; though he has added to the accustomed first principles of em- 
 piricism certain doctrines of his own which, while they do not 
 strengthen his system, make it somewhat difficult to classify. The 
 reader interested in such matters will find most of the relevant 
 points discussed in Philosophic Doubt, chaps, viii., ix., x.
 
 THE PHILOSOPHIC BASIS OF NATURALISM 125 
 
 nothing but ' the unknowable.' Without discussing 
 the place which such entities may properly occupy 
 in the general scheme of things, I content myself 
 with observing, what I have elsewhere endeavoured 
 to demonstrate at length, that they cannot occupy 
 the place now filled by material Nature as conceived 
 by science. That which is a ' permanent possibil- 
 ity,' but is nothing more, is permanent only in name. 
 It represents no enduring reality, nothing which 
 persists, nothing which has any being save during 
 the brief intervals when, ceasing to be a mere 
 * possibility,' it blossoms into the actuality of sen- 
 sation. Before sentient beings were, it was not. 
 When they cease to exist, it will vanish away. If 
 they change the character of their sensibility, it will 
 sympathetically vary its nature. How unfit is this 
 unsubstantial shadow of a phrase to take the place 
 now occupied by that material universe, of which 
 we are but fleeting accidents, whose attributes are 
 for the most part absolutely independent of us, 
 whose duration is incalculable ! 
 
 A different but not a less conclusive criticism 
 may be passed on Mr. Spencer's 'unknowable.' For 
 anything I am here prepared to allege to the con- 
 trary, this may be real enough ; but, unfortunately, 
 it has not the kind of reality imperatively required 
 by science. It is not in space. It is not in time. 
 It possesses neither mass nor extension ; nor is it 
 capable of motion. Its very name implies that it 
 eludes the grasp of thought, and cannot be caught
 
 126 THE PHILOSOPHIC BASIS OF NATURALISM 
 
 up into formulae. Whatever purpose, therefore, 
 such an ' object ' may subserve in the universe of 
 things, it is as useless as a ' permanent possibility ' 
 itself to provide subject-matter for scientific treat- 
 ment. If these be all that truly exist outside the 
 circle of impressions and ideas, then is all science 
 turned to foolishness, and evolution stands confessed 
 as a mere figment of the imagination. Man, or 
 rather * I,' become not merely the centre of the 
 world, but ain the world. Beyond me and my ideas 
 there is cither nothing, or nothing that can be known. 
 The problems about which we disquiet ourselves in 
 vain, the origin of things and the modes of their de- 
 velopment, the inner constitution of matter and its 
 relations to mind, are questionings about nothing, 
 interrogatories shouted into the void. The baseless 
 fabric of the sciences, like the great globe itself, dis- 
 solves at the touch of theories like these, leaving not 
 a wrack behind. Nor does there seem to be any 
 course open to the consistent agnostic, were such a 
 being possible, than to contemplate in patience the 
 long procession of his sensations, without disturbing 
 himself with futile inquiries into what, if anything, 
 may lie beyond. 
 
 VII 
 
 There remains but one problem further with 
 which I need trouble the readers of this chapter. It 
 is that raised by the only remaining proposition of
 
 THE PHILOSOPHIC BASIS OF NATURALISM 1 27 
 
 the three with which I promised just now to deal. 
 This asserts, it may be recollected, that the principle 
 of causation and, by parity of reasoning-, any other 
 universal principle of sense-interpretation, may by 
 some process of logical alchemy be extracted, not 
 merely from experience in general,' but even from 
 the experience of a single individual. 
 
 But who, it may be asked, is unreasonable enough 
 to demand that it should be extracted from the ex- 
 perience of a single individual? What is there in 
 the empirical theory which requires us to impose so 
 arbitrary a limitation upon the sources of our knowl- 
 edge? Have we not behind us the whole experience 
 of the race ? Is it to count for nothing that for num- 
 berless generations mankind has been scrutinisinsf 
 the face of Nature, and storing up for our guidance 
 innumerable observations of the laws which she 
 obeys? Yes, I reply, it is to count for nothing; and 
 for a most simple reason. In making this appeal to 
 the testimony of mankind with regard to the world 
 in which they live, we take for granted that there is 
 such a world, that mankind has had experiences of 
 it, and that, so far as is necessary for our purpose, 
 we know what those experiences have been. But 
 by what right do we take those things for granted ? 
 They are not axiomatic or intuitive truths; they 
 must be proved by something; and that something 
 must, on the empirical theory, be in the last resort 
 experience, and experience alone. But whose cx- 
 
 ' See PJiilosophic Doubt, cli. i.
 
 128 THE PHILOSOPHIC BASIS OF NATURALISM 
 
 perience ? Plainly it cannot be general experience, 
 for that is the very thing whose reality has to be es- 
 tablished, and whose character is in question. It 
 must, therefore, in every case and for each individual 
 man be his own personal experience. This, and only 
 this, can supply him with evidence for those funda- 
 mental beliefs, without whose guidance it is impos- 
 sible for him either to reconstruct the past or to an- 
 ticipate the future. 
 
 Consider, for example, the law of causation ; one, 
 but by no means the only one, of those general prin- 
 ciples of interpretation which, as I am contending, 
 are presupposed in any appeal to general experience, 
 and cannot, therefore, be proved by it. If we en- 
 deavour to analyse the reasoning by which we ar- 
 rive at the conviction that any particular event or 
 any number of particular events have occurred out- 
 side the narrow ring of our own immediate percep- 
 tions, we shall find that not a step of this process 
 can we take without assuming that the course of 
 Nature is uniform^ ; or, if not absolutely uniform, at 
 least sufificiently uniform to allow us to argue with 
 tolerable security from effects to causes, or, if need 
 be, from causes to effects, over great intervals of 
 time and space. The whole of what is called his- 
 torical evidence is, in its most essential parts, noth- 
 
 " The reader will find some observations on the meaning of the 
 phrase, ' Uniformity of Nature,' in the last chapter of this Essay. 
 In this chapter I have assumed (following- empirical usage) that the 
 Uniformity of Nature and the Law of Causation are different ex- 
 pressions for the same thing.
 
 THE PHILOSOPHIC BASIS OF NATURALISM 1 29 
 
 ing- more than an argument or series of arguments 
 of this kind. The fact that mankind have given 
 their testimony to the general uniformity of Nature, 
 or, indeed, to anything else, can be established by 
 tlic aid of that principle itself, and b}' it alone ; so 
 that if wc abandon it, we are in a moment deprived 
 of all logical access to the outer world, of all cogni- 
 sance of other minds, of all usufruct of their accu- 
 mulated knowledge, of all share in the intellectual 
 heritage of the race. While if we cling to it (as, to 
 be sure, we must, whether we like it or not), we can 
 do so only on condition that we forego every en- 
 deavour to prove it by the aid of general experience; 
 for such a procedure would be nothing less than to 
 compel what is intended to be the conclusion of our 
 argument to figure also among the most important 
 of its premises. 
 
 The problem, therefore, is reduced to this : Can 
 we find in our personal experience adequate evi- 
 dence of a law which, like the law of Causation, 
 does, by the very terms in which it is stated, claim 
 universal jurisdiction, as of right, to the utmost 
 verge both of time and space. And surely, to enun- 
 ciate such a question is to suggest the inevitable 
 answer. The sequences familiar to us in the petty 
 round of daily life, the accustomed recurrence of 
 something resembling a former consequent, follow- 
 ing on the heels of something resembling a former 
 antecedent, are sufficient to generate the expecta- 
 tions and the habits by which we endeavour, with 
 9
 
 I30 THE PHILOSOPHIC BASIS OF NATURALISM 
 
 what success we may, to accommodate our behav- 
 iour to the unyielding requirements of the world 
 around us. But to throw upon experiences such as 
 these ^ the whole burden of fixing our opinions as to 
 the constitution of the universe is quite absurd. It 
 would be absurd in any case. It would be absurd 
 even if all the phenomena of which we have imme- 
 diate knowledge succeeded each other according to 
 some obvious and undeviating order ; for the con- 
 trast between this microscopic range of observation 
 and the gigantic induction which it is sought to rest 
 thereon, would rob the argument of all plausibility. 
 But it is doubly and trebly absurd when we reflect 
 on what our experiences really are. So far are they 
 from indicating, when taken strictly by themselves, 
 the existence of a world where all things small and 
 great follow with the most exquisite regularity and 
 the most minute obedience the biddinsf of unchanof. 
 ing law, that they indicate precisely the reverse. In 
 certain regions of experience, no doubt, orderly se- 
 quence appears to be the rule : day alternates with 
 night, and summer follows upon spring ; the sun 
 moves through the zodiac, and unsupported bodies 
 fall usually, though, to be sure, not always, to the 
 ground. Even of such elementary astronomical and 
 physical facts, however, it could hardly be main- 
 tained that any man would have a right, on the 
 strength of his personal observation alone, confident- 
 
 ' At least in the absence of any transcendental interpretation of 
 them. See next chapter.
 
 THE PHILOSOPHIC BASIS OF NATURALISM 131 
 
 ly to assert their undeviating regularity. But when 
 we come to the more complex phenomena with 
 which we have to deal, the plain lesson taught by 
 personal observation is not the regularity, but the 
 irregularity, of Nature. A kind of ineffectual at- 
 tempt at uniformity, no doubt, is commonly appar- 
 ent, as of an ill-constructed machine that will run 
 smoothly for a time, and then for no apparent reason 
 begin to jerk and quiver; or of a drunken man who, 
 though he succeeds in keeping to the high-road, yet 
 pursues along it a most wavering and devious course. 
 But of that perfect adjustment, that all-penetrating 
 governance by law, which lies at the root of scientific 
 inference we find not a trace. In many cases sensa- 
 tion follows sensation, and event hurries after event, 
 to all appearances absolutely at random : no ob- 
 served order of succession is ever repeated, nor is it 
 pretended that there is any direct causal connection 
 between the members of the series as they appear 
 one after the other in the consciousness of the indi- 
 vidual. But even when these conditions are reversed, 
 perfect uniformity is never observed. The most 
 careful series of experiments carried out by the most 
 accomplished investigators never show identical re- 
 sults; and as for the general mass of mankind, so far 
 are they from finding, cither in their personal experi- 
 ences or elsewhere, any sufficient reason for accept- 
 ing in its perfected form the principle of Universal 
 Causation, that, as a matter of fact, this doctrine has 
 been steadily ignored by them up to the present hour.
 
 132 THE PHILOSOPHIC BASIS OF NATURALISM 
 
 This apparent irregularity of Nature, obvious 
 enough when we turn our attention to it, escapes 
 our habitual notice, of course, because we invariably 
 attribute the want of observed uniformity to the 
 errors of the observer. And without doubt we do 
 well. But what does this imply ? It implies that we 
 bring to the interpretation of our sense-perception 
 the principle of causation ready made. It implies 
 that we do not believe the world to be governed by 
 immutable law because our experiences appear to 
 be regular ; but that we believe that our experi- 
 ences, in spite of their apparent irregularity, follow 
 some (perhaps) unknown rule because we first be- 
 lieve the world to be governed by immutable law. 
 But this is as much as to say that the principle is 
 not proved by experience, but that experience is un- 
 derstood in the light of the principle. Here, again, 
 empiricism fails us. As in the case of our judgments 
 about particular matters of fact, so also in the case 
 of these other judgments, whose scope is co-exten-.,^ 
 sive with the whole realm of Nature, we find that 
 any endeavour to formulate a rational justification 
 for them based on experience alone breaks down, 
 and, to all appearance, breaks down hopelessly. 
 
 VIII 
 
 But even if this reasoning be sound, may the 
 reader exclaim. What is it that we gain by it ? What 
 harvest are we likely to reap from such broadcast
 
 THE PHILOSOPHIC BASIS OF NATURALISM 1 33 
 
 sowing of scepticism as this? What does it profit 
 us to show that a great many truths which every- 
 bod}' believes, and which no abstract specuLations 
 will induce us to doubt, are still waiting for a philo- 
 sophic proof? Fair questions, it must be admitted ; 
 questions, nevertheless, to which I must reserve my 
 full answer until a later stage of our inquiry. Yet 
 even now something may be said, by way of conclu- 
 sion to this chapter, on the relation which these crit- 
 icisms bear to the scheme of thought whose practi- 
 cal consequences we traced out in the first part of 
 these Notes. 
 
 I begin by admitting that the criticisms them- 
 selves are, from the nature of the case, incomplete. 
 They contain but the concise and even meagre out- 
 line of an argument which is itself but a portion 
 only of the whole case. For want of space, or to 
 avoid unsuitable technicalities, much has been omitted 
 which would have been relevant to the issues raised, 
 and have still further strengthened the position 
 which has been taken up. Yet, though more might 
 have been said, what has been said is, in my opinion, 
 sufficient; and I shall, therefore, not scruple hence- 
 forth to assume that a purely empirical theory of 
 things, a philosophy which depends for its premises 
 in the last resort upon the particulars revealed to 
 us in perceptive experience alone, is one that can- 
 not rationally be accepted. 
 
 Is this conclusion, then, adverse to Naturalism ? 
 And, if so, must it not tell with equal force against
 
 134 I'lIE PHILOSOPHIC BASIS OF NATURALISM 
 
 Science, seeing that it is solely against that part of 
 the naturalistic teaching which is taken over bodily 
 from Science that it appears to be directed ? Of 
 these two questions, 1 answer the first in the affirm- 
 ative, the second in the negative. Doubtless, if 
 empiricism be shattered, it must drag down natural- 
 ism in its fall ; for, after all, naturalism is nothing 
 more than the assertion that empirical methods are 
 valid, and that no others are so. But because any 
 effectual criticism of empiricism is the destruction 
 of naturalism, is it therefore the destruction of sci- 
 ence also ? Surely not. The adherent of natural- 
 ism is an empiricist from necessity ; the man of 
 science, if he be an empiricist, is so only from 
 choice. The latter may, if he please, have no philos- 
 ophy at all, or he may have a different one. He is 
 not obliged, any more than other men, to justify his 
 conclusions by an appeal to first principles ; still less 
 is he obliged to take his first principles from so poor 
 a creed as the one we have been discussing. Science 
 preceded the theory of science, and is independent 
 of it. Science preceded naturalism, and will sur- 
 vive it. Though the convictions involved in our 
 practical conception of the universe are not beyond 
 the reach of theoretic doubts, though we habitually 
 stake our all upon assumptions which we never at- 
 tempt to justify, and which we could not justify if 
 we would, yet is our scientific certitude unshaken ; 
 and if we still strive after some solution of our 
 sceptical difficulties, it is because this is necessary
 
 THE PHILOSOPHIC BASIS OF NATURALISM 1 35 
 
 for the satisfaction of an intellectual ideal, not be- 
 cause it is required to fortify our confidence either 
 in the familiar teachings of experience or in their 
 utmost scientific expansion. And hence arises my 
 principal complaint against naturalism. With Em- 
 pirical philosophy, considered as a tentative con- 
 tribution to the theor}' of science, I have no desire 
 to pick a quarrel. That it should fail is nothing. 
 Other philosophies have failed. Such is, after all, 
 the common lot. That it should have been con- 
 trived to justify conclusions already accepted is, if a 
 fault at all — which I doubt — at least a most venial 
 one, and one, moreover, which it has committed in 
 the best of philosophic company. That it should 
 derive some moderate degree of imputed credit 
 from the universal acceptance of the scientific be- 
 liefs which it countersigns, may be borne with, 
 though for the real interests of speculative inquiry 
 this has been, I think, a misfortune. But that it 
 should develop into naturalism, and then, on the 
 strength of labours which it has not endured, of 
 victories which it has not won, and of scientific 
 triumphs in which it has no right to share, presume, 
 in despite of its speculative insufficiency, to dictate 
 terms of surrender to ever}^ other system of belief, is 
 altogether intolerable. Who would pay the slight- 
 est attention to naturalism if it did not force itself 
 into the retinue of science, assume her livery, and 
 claim, as a kind of poor relation, in some sort to rep- 
 resent her authority and to speak with her voice ?
 
 136 THE PHILOSOPHIC BASIS OF NATURALISM 
 
 Of itself it is nothing. It neither ministers to the 
 needs of mankind, nor does it satisfy their reason. 
 And if, in spite of this, its influence has increased, is 
 increasing, and as yet shows no signs of diminution ; 
 if more and more the educated and the half-educated 
 are acquiescing in its pretensions and, however re- 
 luctantly, submitting to its domination, this is, at 
 least in part, because they have not learned to dis- 
 tinguish between the practical and inevitable claims 
 which experience has on their allegiance, and the 
 speculative but quite illusory title by which the em- 
 pirical school have endeavoured to associate natural- 
 ism and science in a kind of joint supremacy over 
 the thoughts and consciences of mankind.
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 IDEALISM ; AFTER SOME RECENT ENGLISH WRITINGS* 
 
 The difficulties in the way of an empirical philos- 
 ophy of science, with which we dealt in the last 
 
 ' The reader who has no familiarity with philosophic literature is 
 advised to omit this chapter. The philosophic reader will, I hope, 
 regard it as provisional. Transcendental Idealism is, if I mistake 
 not, at this moment in rather a singular position in this country. 
 In the land of its birth (as I am informed) it is but little considered. 
 In English-speaking countries it is, within the narrow circle of 
 professed philosophers, perhiips the dominant mood of thought ; 
 while without that circle it is not so much objected to as totally 
 ignored. This anomalous state of things is no doubt due in part 
 to the inherent difficulty of the subject ; but even more, I think, to 
 the fact that the energy of English Idealists has been consumed 
 rather in the production of commentaries on other people's systems 
 than in the expositions of their own. The result of this is that we 
 do not quite know where we are, that we are more or less in a con- 
 dition of expectancy, and that both learners and critics are placed 
 at a disadvantage. Pending the appearance of some original work 
 which shall represent the constructive views of the younger school 
 of thinkers, I have written the following chapter, with reference 
 chiefly to the writings of the late Mr. T. H. Green, which at pres- 
 ent contain the most important exposition, so far as I know, of this 
 phase of English thought. Mr. Bradley's noteworthy work, ' Ap- 
 pearance and Reality,' published some time after this chapter was 
 finished, is written with characteristic independence ; but I know 
 not whether it has yet commanded any large nuasurc of assent 
 from the few who are compc'tent to pronouun- a vcnlicl upon its 
 merits.
 
 138 IDEALISM 
 
 chapter, largely arise from the conflict which exists 
 between two parts of a system, the scientific half of 
 which requires us to regard experience as an effect 
 of an external and independent world, while the 
 philosophic or epistemological half offers this same 
 experience to us as the sole groundwork and logi- 
 cal foundation on which any knowledge whatever 
 of an external and independent world may be ra- 
 tionally based. These difificulties and the arguments 
 founded on them require to be urged, in the first in- 
 stance, in opposition to those who explicitly hold 
 what I have called the ' naturalistic ' creed ; and 
 then to that general body of educated opinion 
 which, though reluctant to contract its beliefs with- 
 in the narrow circuit of ' naturalism,' yet habitually 
 assumes that there is presented to us in science a 
 body of opinion, certified by reason, solid, certain, 
 and impregnable, to which theology adds, as an edi- 
 fying supplement, a certain number of dogmas, of 
 which the well-disposed assimilate as many, but 
 only as many, as their superior allegiance to * posi- 
 tive ' knowledge will permit them to digest. 
 
 These two classes, however, by no means exhaust 
 the kinds of opinion with which it is necessary to 
 deal. And in particular there is a metaphysical 
 school, few indeed in numbers, but none the less im- 
 portant in matters speculative, whose general posi- 
 tion is wholly distinct and independent; who would, 
 indeed, not perhaps very widely, dissent from the 
 negative conclusions already reached, but who have
 
 IDEALISM 139 
 
 their own positive solution of the problem of the 
 universe. In their opinion, all the embarrassments 
 which may be shown to attend on the empirical 
 philosophy are due to the fact that empirical philos- 
 ophers wholly misunderstand the essential nature 
 of that experience on which they profess to found 
 their beliefs. The theory of perception evolved out 
 of Locke, by Berkeley and Hume, which may be 
 traced without radical modification through their 
 modern successors, is, according to the school of 
 which I speak, at the root of all the mischief. Of 
 this theory they make short work. They press to 
 the utmost the sceptical consequences to which it 
 inevitably leads. They show, or profess to show, 
 that it renders not only scientific knowledge, but 
 any knowledge whatever, impossible ; and they of- 
 fer as a substitute a theory of experience, very re- 
 mote indeed from ordinary modes of expression, by 
 which these consequences may, in their judgment, 
 be entirely avoided. 
 
 The dimensions and character of these Notes ren- 
 der it impossible, even were I adequately equipped 
 for the task, to deal fully with so formidable a sub- 
 ject as Transcendental Idealism, either in its 
 historical or its metaphysical aspect. Remote 
 though it be from ordinary modes of thought, some 
 brief discussion of the theory with which, in some 
 recent English works, it supplies us concerning Nat- 
 ure and God is, however, absolutely necessary ; 
 and I therefore here present the following observa-
 
 I40 IDEALISM 
 
 tions to the philosophic reader with apologies for 
 their brevity, and to the unphilosophic reader with 
 apologies for their length. 
 
 From what I have already said it is clear that 
 the theory to which Transcendental Idealism may 
 be, from our point of view, considered as a reply, is 
 7iot the theory of experience which is taken for 
 granted in ordinary scientific statement, but the 
 closely allied ' psychological theory of perception ' 
 evolved by thinkers usually classed rather as philos- 
 ophers than as men of science. The difference is 
 not wholly immaterial, as will appear in the sequel. 
 
 What, then, is this ' psychological theory of per- 
 ception ' ? Or, rather, where is the weak point in it 
 at which it is open to attack by the transcendental 
 idealists? It lies in the account given by that the- 
 ory of the real. According to this account the 
 ' real ' in external experience, that which, because it 
 is not due to any mental manipulation by the per- 
 cipient, such as abstraction or comparison, may be 
 considered as the experienced fact, is, in ultimate 
 analysis, either a sensation or a group of sensations. 
 These sensations and groups of sensations are sub- 
 jected in the mind to a process of analysis and com- 
 parison. Discrimination is made between those 
 which are unlike. Those which have points of re- 
 semblance are called by a common name. The se- 
 quences and CO -existences which obtain among 
 them are noted ; the laws by which they are bound 
 together are discovered ; and the order in which
 
 IDEALISM 141 
 
 they may be expected to recur is foreseen and un- 
 derstood. 
 
 Now, say the idealists, if everything of which ex- 
 ternal reality can be predicated is thus either a sen- 
 sation or the idea of a sensation, if these and these 
 only are ' given ' in experience, ever37thing else, in- 
 cluding relations, being mere fictions of the mind, 
 we are reduced to the absurd position of holding 
 that the real is not only unknown, but is also un- 
 knowable. For a brief examination of the nature of 
 experience is sufficient to prove that an unrelated 
 ' thing ' (be that ' thing ' a sensation or a group of 
 sensations), which is not qualified by its resemblance 
 to other things, its difference from other things, and 
 its connection with other things, is really, so far as 
 we are concerned, no ' thing ' at all. It is not an 
 object of possible experience ; its true character 
 must be for ever hid from us ; or, rather, as char- 
 acter consists simply in relations, it lias no char- 
 acter, nor can it form part of that intelligible 
 world with which alone we have to deal. 
 
 Ideas of relation are, therefore, required to con- 
 vert the supposed ' real * of external experience into 
 something of which experience can take note. But 
 such ideas themselves are unintelligible, except as the 
 results of the intellectual activity of some ' Self ' or 
 ' I '. They must be somebody's thought, somebody's 
 ideas ; if only for the purpose of mutual compari- 
 son, there must be some bond of union between 
 them other than themselves. Here again, therefore,
 
 142 IDEALISM 
 
 the psychological analysis of experience breaks 
 down, and it becomes plain that just as the real in 
 external experience is real only in virtue of an in- 
 tellectual element, namely, ideas of relation (cate- 
 gories), through which it was apprehended, so in 
 internal experience ideas and sensations presuppose 
 the existence of an ' I,' or self-conscious unity, which 
 is neither sensation nor idea, which ought not, 
 therefore, on the psychological theory to be con- 
 sidered as having any claim to reality at all, but 
 which, nevertheless, is presupposed in the very pos- 
 sibility of phenomena appearing as elements in a 
 single experience. 
 
 We are thus apparently left by the idealist theory 
 face to face with a mind (thinking subject) which is 
 the source of relations (categories), and a world which 
 is constituted by relations : with a mind which is 
 conscious of itself, and a world of which that mind 
 may without metaphor be described as the creator. 
 We have, in short, reached the central position of 
 transcendental idealism. But before we proceed to 
 subject the system to any critical observations, let 
 us ask what it is we are supposed to gain by endeav- 
 ouring thus to rctJiink the universe from so unaccus- 
 tomed a point of view. 
 
 In the first place, then, it is claimed for this theory 
 that it frees us from the scepticism which, in matters 
 scientific as well as in matters theological, follows 
 inevitably upon the psychological doctrine of percep- 
 tion as just explained : a scepticism which not only
 
 IDEALISM 143 
 
 leaves no room for God and the soul, but destroys 
 the very possibility of framing any general proposi- 
 tion about the ' external ' world, by destroying the 
 possibility of there being any world, ' external ' or 
 otherwise, in which permanent relation shall exist. 
 
 In the second place, it makes Reason no mere 
 accidental excrescence on a universe of material 
 objects; an element to be added to, or subtracted 
 from, the sum of ' things ' as the blind shock of un- 
 thinking causes may decide. Rather does it make 
 Reason the very essence of all that is or can be : the 
 (immanent) cause of the world - process ; its origin 
 and its goal. 
 
 In the third place, it professes to establish on a 
 firm foundation the moral freedom of self-conscious 
 agents. That ' Self ' which is the prior condition of 
 there being a natural world cannot be the creature 
 of that W'Orld. It stands above and beyond the sphere 
 of causes and effects ; it is no mere object among 
 other objects, driven along its predestined course by 
 external forces in obedience to alien laws. On the 
 contrary, it is a free, autonomous Spirit, not only 
 bound, but able, to fulfil the moral commands which 
 are but the expression of its own most essential being. 
 
 II 
 
 I am reluctant to suggest objections to any theory 
 which promises results so admirable. Yet I cannot 
 think that all the difficulties with which it is sur-
 
 144 IDEALISM 
 
 rounded have been fairly faced, or, at any rate, fully 
 explained, by those who accept its main principles. 
 Consider, for example, the crucial question of the 
 analysis which reduces all experience to an experience 
 of relations, or, in more technical language, which 
 constitutes the universe out of categories. We ma}' 
 grant without difficulty that the contrasted theory, 
 which proposes to reduce the universe to an unrelated 
 chaos of impressions or sensations, is quite untenable. 
 But must we not also grant that in all experience 
 there is a refractory element which, though it cannot 
 be presented in isolation, nevertheless refuses wholly 
 to merge its being in a network of relations, necessary 
 as these may be to give it ' significance for us as 
 thinking beings ' ? If so, whence does this irreduc- 
 ible element arise ? The mind, we are told, is the 
 source of relation. What is the source of that which 
 is related ? A ' thing-in-itself ' which, by impressing 
 the percipient mind, shall furnish the ' matter ' for 
 which categories provide the ' form,' is a way out of 
 the difficulty (if difficulty there be) which raises more 
 doubts than it solves. The followers of Kant them- 
 selves make haste to point out that this hypothetical 
 cause of that which is ' given ' in experience cannot, 
 since ex hypothesi it lies beyond experience, be known 
 as a cause, or even as existing. Nay, it is not so much 
 unknown and unknowable as indescribable and unin- 
 telligible ; not so much a riddle whose meaning is 
 obscure as mere absence and vacuity of any meaning 
 whatever. Accordingly, from the speculations with
 
 IDEALISM 145 
 
 which we are here concerned it has been dismissed 
 with ignominy, and it need not, therefore, detain us 
 further. 
 
 But we do not get rid of the difficulty by getting 
 rid of Kant's solution of it. His dictum still seems 
 to me to remain true, that ' without matter categories 
 are empty.' And, indeed, it is hard to see how it is 
 possible to conceive a universe in which relations 
 shall be all in all, but in which nothing is to be per- 
 mitted for the relations to subsist between. Rela- 
 tions surely imply a something which is related, 
 and if that something is, in the absence of relations, 
 ' nothing for us as thinking beings,' so relations in 
 the absence of that something arc mere symbols 
 emptied of their signification ; they are, in short, an 
 ' illegitimate abstraction.' 
 
 Those, moreover, who hold that these all-consti- 
 tuting relations are the ' work of the mind ' would 
 seem bound also to hold that this concrete world of 
 ours, down to its minutest detail, must evolve itself 
 a priori out of the movement of * pure thought.' 
 There is no room in it for the * contingent' ; there is 
 no room in it for the ' given ' ; experience itself would 
 seem to be a superfluity. And we are at a loss, there- 
 fore, to understand why that dialectical process which 
 moves, I will not say so convincingly, but at least so 
 smoothly, through the abstract categories of ' being,' 
 ' not-being,' * becoming,' and so forth, should stumble 
 and hesitate when it comes to deal with that world 
 of Natiir<- which is, after all, one of the prinri]ial 
 10
 
 146 IDEALISM 
 
 subjects about which we desire information. No 
 explanation which I remember to have seen makes 
 it otherwise than strange that we should, as the ideal- 
 ists claim, be able so thoroughly to identify ourselves 
 with those thoughts of God which are the necessary 
 preliminary to creation, but should so little under- 
 stand creation itself ; that we should out of our 
 unaided mental resources be competent to reproduce 
 the whole ground-plan of the universe, and should 
 yet lose ourselves so hopelessly in the humblest of 
 its ante-rooms. 
 
 This difficulty at once requires us to ask on what 
 ground it is alleged that these constitutive relations 
 are the ' work of the mind.' It is true, no doubt, that 
 ordinary usage would describe as mental products 
 the more abstract thoughts (categories), such, for 
 example, as ' being,' ' not-being,' ' causation,' ' reci- 
 procity,' &c. But it must be recollected, in the first 
 place, that transcendental idealism does not, as a 
 rule, derive its inspiration from ordinary usage ; and 
 in the second place, that even ordinary usage alters 
 its procedure when it comes to such more concrete 
 cases of relation as, for instance, ' shape ' and ' posi- 
 tion,' which, rightly or wrongly, are always con- 
 sidered as belonging to the 'external' world, and 
 presented by the external world to thought, not cre- 
 ated by thought for itself. 
 
 Are the transcendental idealists, then, bound by 
 their own most essential principles, in opposition both 
 to their arguments against Kant's * thing-in-itself '
 
 IDEALISM 147 
 
 and to the ordinary beliefs of mankind, to invest the 
 thinking ' self ' with this attribute of causal or quasi- 
 causal activity ? It certainly appears to me that they 
 are not. Starting, it will be recollected, from the 
 analysis (criticism) of experience, they arrived at the 
 conclusion that the world of objects exists and has 
 a meaning only for the self-conscious ' I ' (subject), 
 and that the self-conscious ' I ' only knows itself in 
 contrast and in opposition to the world of objects. 
 Each is necessar}' to the other ; in the absence of the 
 other neither has an}^ significance. How, then, can 
 we venture to sa}' of one that the other is its product ? 
 and if we say it of either, must we not in consistency 
 insist on saying it of both ? Thus, though the pres- 
 ence of a self-conscious principle may be necessary 
 to constitute the universe, it cannot be considered 
 as the creator of that universe ; or if it be, then must 
 we acknowledge that precisel}' in the same way and 
 precisely to the same extent is the univei^se the cre- 
 ator of the self-conscious principle. 
 
 All, therefore, that the transcendental argument 
 requires or even allows us to accept, is a ' manifold ' 
 of relations on the one side, and a bare self-conscious 
 principle of unity on the other, by which that mani- 
 fold becomes intcr-connected in the ' field of a single 
 experience.' We are not permitted, except by a 
 process of abstraction which is purely temporary and 
 provisional, to consider the ' manifold ' apart from 
 the ' unity,' nor the ' unity ' apart from the ' manifold.' 
 The thoughts do not make the thinker, nor the
 
 148 IDEALISM 
 
 thinker the thoughts ; but together they constitute 
 that Whole or Absolute whose elements, as they are 
 mere no -sense apart from one another, cannot in 
 strictness be even said to contribute separately to- 
 wards the total result. 
 
 Ill 
 
 Now let us consider what bearing this conclusion 
 has upon (i) Theology, (2) Ethics, and (3) Science. 
 
 I. As regards Theology, it might be supposed 
 that at least idealism provided us with a universe 
 which, if not created or controlled by Reason (crea- 
 tion and control implying causal action), may yet 
 properly be said to be throughout infused by Rea- 
 son and to be in necessary harmony with it. But 
 on a closer examination difficulties arise which some- 
 what mar this satisfactory conclusion. In the first 
 place, if theology is to provide us with a ground- 
 work for religion, the God of whom it speaks must 
 be something more than the bare ' principle of unity ' 
 required to give coherence to the multiplicity of 
 Nature. Apart from Nature He is, on the theory 
 we are considering, a mere metaphysical abstraction, 
 the geometrical point through which pass all the 
 threads which make up the web of possible experi- 
 ence : no fitting object, surely, of either love, rever- 
 ence, or devotion. In combination with Nature He 
 is no doubt ' the principle of unity,' and all the ful- 
 ness of concrete reality besides; but ever}' quality
 
 IDEALISM 149 
 
 with which He is thus associated belongs to that por- 
 tion of the Absolute Whole from which, by hypoth- 
 esis, He distinguishes Himself ; and, were it other- 
 wise, we cannot find in these qualities, compacted, 
 as they are, of good and bad, of noble and base, the 
 Perfect Goodness without which relio:ious feelinirs 
 can never find an adequate object. Thus, neither 
 the combining principle alone, nor the combining 
 principle considered in its union with the multipli- 
 city which it combines, can satisfy the requirements 
 of an effectual theology. Not the first, because it is 
 a barren abstraction ; not the second, because in its 
 all-inclusive universality it holds in suspension, with- 
 out preference and without repulsion, every element 
 alike of the knowable world. Of these none, what- 
 ever be its nature, be it good or bad, base or noble, 
 can be considered as alien to the Absolute : all are 
 necessary, and all are characteristic. 
 
 Of these two alternatives, I understand that it 
 is the first which is usually adopted by the school 
 of thought with which we are at present concerned. 
 It may therefore be desirable to reiterate that a 
 'unifying principle' can, as such, have no qualities, 
 moral or otherwise. Lovingkindness, for example, 
 and Equity are attributes which, like all attributes, 
 belong not to the unifying principle, but to the 
 world of objects which it constitutes. They are 
 conceptions which i)elong to the realm of emj)ir- 
 ic.'il ps\( linlogv. Nor can I see any mctlusd l)v 
 which the}' are to be hitched on to the 'pure spirit-
 
 ISO IDEALISM 
 
 ual subject,* as elements making up its essential 
 character. 
 
 2. But if this be so, what is the ethical value of 
 that freedom which is attributed by the idealistic 
 theory to the self-conscious ' I ' ? It is true that this 
 ' I ' as conceived by idealism is above all the * cate- 
 gories,' including, of course, the category of causa- 
 tion. It is not in space nor in time. It is subject 
 neither to mutation nor decay. The stress of ma- 
 terial forces touches it not, nor is it in any servitude 
 to chance or circumstance, to inherited tendencies 
 or acquired habits. But all these immunities and 
 privileges it possesses in virtue of its being, not an 
 agent in a world of concrete fact, but a thinking 
 'subject,' for whom alone, as it is alleged, such a 
 world exists. Its freedom is metaphysical, not moral ; 
 for moral freedom can only have a meaning at all 
 in reference to a being who acts and who wills, 
 and is only of real importance for us in relation to 
 a being who not only acts, but is acted on, who not 
 only wills, but who wills against the opposing influ- 
 ences of temptation. Such freedom cannot, it is 
 plain, be predicated of a mere ' subject,' nor is the 
 freedom proper to a ' subject ' of any worth to man 
 as ' object,' to man as known in experience, to man 
 fighting his way with varying fortunes against the 
 stream of adverse circumstances, in a world made 
 up of causes and effects.^ 
 
 ' This proposition would, probably, not be widely dissented from 
 by some of the ethical writers of the idealist school. The freedom
 
 IDEALISM 151 
 
 These observations bring into sufficiently clear 
 relief the difficulty which exists, on the idealistic 
 theory, in bringing together into any sort of intelli- 
 gible association the ' I ' as supreme principle of 
 unity, and the ' I ' of empirical psychology, which 
 
 which they postulate is not the freedom merely of the pure self-con- 
 scious subject. On the contrary, it is the individual, with all his 
 qualities, passions, and emotions, who in their view possesses free 
 will. But the ethical value of the freedom thus attributed to self- 
 conscious agents seems on further examination to disappear. Man- 
 kind, it seems, are on this theory free, but their freedom does not 
 exclude determinism, but only that form of determinism ivhich 
 consists in external constraint. Their actions are upon this view 
 strictly prescribed by their antecedents, but these antecedents are 
 nothing other than the characters of the agents themselves. 
 
 Now it may seem at first sight plausible to describe that man as 
 free whose behaviour is due to ' himself ' alone. But without quar- 
 relling over words, it is, I think, plain that, whether it be proper to 
 call him free or not, he at least lacks freedom in the sense in which 
 freedom is necessary in order to constitute responsibility. It is im- 
 possible to say of him that he ' ought,' and therefore he ' can'. For 
 at any given moment of his life his next action is by hypothesis 
 strictly determined. This is also true of every previous moment, 
 until we get back to that point in his life's history at which he can- 
 not, in any intelligible sense of the term, be said to ' have a char- 
 acter at all. Antecedently to this, the causes which have produced 
 him are in no special sense connected with his individuality, but form 
 part of the general complex of phenomena which make up the 
 world. It is evident, therefore, that every act which he performs 
 may be traced to pre-natal, and possibly to purely material, antece- 
 dents, and that, even if it be true that what he does is the outcome 
 of his character, his character itself is the outcome of causes over 
 which he has not, and cannot by any possibility have, the smallest 
 control. Such a theory destroys responsibility, and leaves our ac- 
 tions the inevitable outcome of external conditions not less com- 
 pletely than any doctrine of controlling fate, whether materialistic 
 or theological.
 
 152 IDEALISM 
 
 has desires and fears, pleasures and pains, faculties 
 and sensibilities ; which was not a little time since, 
 and which a little time hence will be no more. The 
 ' 1 ' as principle of unity is outside time ; it can have, 
 therefore, no history. The ' I ' of experience, which 
 learns and forgets, which suffers and which enjoys, 
 unquestionably has a history. What is the relation 
 between the two? We seem equally precluded from 
 saying that they are the same, and from saying that 
 they are different. We cannot say that they are the 
 same, because they are, after all, divided by the whole 
 chasm which distinguishes 'subject' from * object.' 
 We cannot say they are different, because our feel- 
 ings and our desires seem a not less interesting and 
 important part of ourselves than a mere unifying 
 principle whose functions, after all, are of a purely 
 metaphysical character. We cannot say they are 
 ' two aspects of the same thing,' because there is no 
 virtue in this useful phrase which shall empower it 
 on the one hand to ear-mark a fragment of the world 
 of objects, and say of it, ' this is I,' or, on the other, 
 to take the ' pure subject ' by which the world of 
 objects is constituted, and say of it that it shall be 
 itself an object in that world from which its essential 
 nature requires it to be self-distinguished. 
 
 But as it thus seems difficult or impossible in- 
 telligibly to unite into a personal whole the ' pure * 
 and the 'empirical' Self, so it is difficult or impossible 
 to conceive the relations between the pure, though 
 limited, self-consciousness which is ' I ' and the uni-
 
 IDEALISM 153 
 
 versal and eternal Self-consciousness which is God. 
 The iirst has been described as a ' mode ' or ' mani- 
 festation ' of the second. But are we not, in using 
 such language, falling into the kind of error against 
 which, in other connections, the idealists are most 
 careful to warn us? Are we not importing a cate- 
 gory which has its meaning and its use in the world 
 of objects into a transcendental region where it 
 really has neither meaning nor use at all ? Grant, how- 
 ever, for the sake of argument, that it has a meaning; 
 grant that we may legitimately describe one ' pure 
 subject ' as a ' mode ' or ' manifestation ' of another — 
 how is this partial identity to be established ? How 
 can we, who start from the basis of our own limited 
 self-consciousness, rise to the knowledge of that 
 completed and divine self-consciousness of which, 
 according to the theory, we share the essential nat- 
 ure ? 
 
 The difficulty is evaded but not solved in those 
 statements of the idealist theory which always speak 
 of Thought without specifying ivhosc Thought. It 
 seems to be thus assumed that the thought is God's, 
 and that in rethinking it we share His being. But 
 no such assumption would seem to be justifiable. 
 For the basis, we know, of the whole theory is a 
 ' criticism ' or analysis of the essential elements of 
 experience. But the criticism must, for each of us, 
 be necessarily of his ozvn experience, for of no other 
 experience can he know anything, except indirectly 
 and by way of inference from his own. What, then,
 
 154 IDEALISM 
 
 is this criticism supposed to establish (say) for me ? 
 Is it that experience depends upon the unification 
 by a self-conscious ' I ' of a world constituted by re- 
 lations? In strictness, No. It can only establish 
 that inj experience depends upon a unification by 
 my self-conscious ' I ' of a world of relations present 
 to uic, and to me alone. To this ' 1,' to this particu- 
 lar ' self-conscious subject,' all other ' I's,' including 
 God, must be objects, constituted like all objects by 
 relations, rendered possible or significant only by 
 their unification in the ' content of a single experi- 
 ence ' — namely, my own. In other words, that which 
 (if it exists at all) is essentially ' subject ' can only be 
 known, or thought of, or spoken about, as ' object.* 
 Surely a ver}^ paradoxical conclusion. 
 
 It may perhaps be said by way of reply, that in 
 talking of particular ' I's ' and particular experiences 
 we are using language properly applicable only to 
 the ' self ' dealt with by the empirical psychologist, 
 the ' self ' which is not the< subject,' but the ' object,' 
 of experience. I will not dispute about terms; and 
 the relations which exist between the ' pure ego ' 
 and the ' empirical ego ' are, as I have already said, 
 so obscure that it is not always easy to employ a 
 perfectly accurate terminology in endeavouring to 
 deal with them. Yet this much would seem to be 
 certain. If the words ' self,' ' ego,' ' I,' are to be used 
 intelligibly at all, they must mean, whatever else 
 they do or do not mean, a ' somewhat ' which is self- 
 distinguished, not only from every other knowable
 
 IDEALISM 155 
 
 object, but also from every other possible ' self.' 
 What we are ' in ourselves,' apart from the flux of 
 thoughts and feelings which move in never-ending 
 pageant through the chambers of consciousness, 
 metaphysicians have, indeed, found it hard to say. 
 Some of them have said we are nothing. But if this 
 conclusion be, as I think it is, conformable neither 
 to our instinctive beliefs nor to a sound psychology ; 
 if we are, as I believe, more than a mere series of 
 occurrences, yet it seems equally certain that the 
 very notion of Personality excludes the idea of any 
 one person being a ' mode ' of any other, and forces 
 us to reject from philosophy a supposition which, if 
 it be tolerable at all, can find a place only in mj's- 
 ticism. 
 
 But the idealistic theory pressed to its furthest 
 conclusions requires of us to reject, as it appears to 
 me, even more than this. We are not only precluded 
 by it from identifying ourselves, even partially, with 
 the Eternal Consciousness : we are also precluded 
 from supposing that either the Eternal Conscious- 
 ness or any other consciousness exists, save only our 
 own. For, as I have already said, the Eternal Con- 
 sciousness, if it is to be known, can only be known 
 on the same conditions as any other object of knowl- 
 edge. It must be constituted by relations; it must 
 form part of the ' content of experience ' of the 
 knower; it must exist as part of the ' multiplicity ' 
 reduced to ' unity ' by his self-consciousness. But to 
 say that it can only be known on these terms, is to
 
 156 IDEALISM 
 
 say that it cannot be known as it exists ; for if it 
 exists at all, it exists by hypothesis as Eternal Sub- 
 ject, and as such it clearly is not constituted by rela- 
 tions, nor is it either a * possible object of experi- 
 ence,' or ' anything for us as thinking beings.' 
 
 No consciousness, then, is a possible object of 
 knowledge for any other consciousness : a statement 
 which, on the idealistic theory of knowledge, is 
 equivalent to saying that for any one consciousness 
 all other consciousnesses are less than non-existent. 
 For as that which is ' critically ' shown to be an in- 
 evitable element in experience has thereby conferred 
 on it the highest possible degree of reality, so that 
 which cannot on any terms become an element in 
 experience falls in the scale of reality far below mere 
 not-being, and is reduced, as we have seen, to mere 
 meaningless no-sense. By this kind of reasoning 
 the idealists themselves demonstrate the ' I ' to be 
 necessary; the unrelated object and the thing-in-itself 
 to be impossible. Not less, by this kind of reason- 
 ing, must each one of us severally be driven to the 
 conclusion that in the infinite variety of the universe 
 there is room for but one knowing subject, and that 
 this subject is ' himself.'^ 
 
 ' Prof. Caird, in his most interesting and suggestive lecture on 
 the Evolution of Religion, puts forward a theory essentially dif- 
 ferent from the one I have just been dealing with. In his view, a 
 multiplicity of objects apprehended by a single self-conscious subject 
 does not suffice to constitute an intelligible universe. The world of 
 objects and the perceiving mind are themselves opposites which re- 
 quire a higher unity to hold them together. This higher unity is
 
 IDEALISM 157 
 
 IV 
 
 3. That the transcendental ' solipsism ' which is 
 the natural outcome of such speculations is not less 
 inconsistent with science, morality, and common- 
 sense than the psychological, or Berkeleian ^ form 
 of the same creed, is obvious. But without attempt- 
 ing further to press idealism to results which, wheth- 
 er legitimate or not, all idealists would agree in 
 
 God ; so that by the simplest of metaphysical demonstrations Prof. 
 Caird lays deep the foundations of his theology, and proves not 
 only that God exists, but that His Being is philosophically involved 
 in the very simplest of our experiences. 
 
 I confess, with regret, that this reasoning appears to me incon- 
 clusive. Surely we must think of God as, on the transcendental 
 theory, we think of ourselves ; that is, as a Subject distinguishing 
 itself from, but giving unity to, a world of phenomena. But if 
 such a Subject and such a world cannot be conceived without also 
 postulating some higher unity in which their differences shall vanish 
 and be dissolved, then God Himself would require some yet higher 
 deity to explain His existence. If, in short, a multiplicity of phe- 
 nomena presented to and apprehended by a conscious ' I ' form to- 
 gether an intelligible and self-sufficient whole, then it is hard to see 
 by what logic we are to get beyond the solipsism which, as I have 
 urged in the text, seems to be the necessary outcome of one form, 
 at least, of the transcendental argument. If, on the other hand, 
 subject and object cannot form such an intelligible and self-suffi- 
 cient whole, then it seems impossible to imagine what is the nature 
 (jf that Infinite One in which the multiplicity of things and persons 
 find their ultimate unity. Of such a God we can have no knowl- 
 edge, nor can we say that we are formed in His image, or share 
 His essence. 
 
 ' Of course I do not mean to suggest that Berkeley was a ' so- 
 lipsist.' (Jn the scientific bearing of psychological idealism, see 
 Philosophic Doubt, chap. ix.
 
 158 IDEALISM 
 
 repudiating, let me, in conclusion, point out how 
 little assistance this theory is able under any circum- 
 stances to afford us in solving important problems 
 connected with the Philosophy of Science. 
 
 The psychology of Hume, as we have seen, threw 
 doubt upon the very possibility of legitimately fram- 
 ing general propositions about the world of objects. 
 The observation of isolated and unrelated impres- 
 sions of sense, which is in effect what experience 
 became reduced to under his process of analysis, 
 may generate habits of expectation, but never can 
 justify rational beliefs. The law of universal causa- 
 tion, for example, can never be proved by a mere 
 repetition, however prolonged, of similar sequences, 
 though the repetition may, through the association 
 of ideas, gradually compel us to expect the second 
 term of the sequence whenever the first term comes 
 within the field of our observation. So far Hume 
 as interpreted by the transcendental idealists. 
 
 Now, how is this difficulty met on the idealistic 
 theory ? Somewhat in this way. These categories 
 or general principles of relation have not, say the 
 idealists, to be collected (so to speak) from individual 
 and separate experiences (as the empirical philoso- 
 phers believe, but as Hume, the chief among empiri- 
 cists, showed to be impossible) ; neither are they, 
 as the a priori philosophers supposed, part of the 
 original furniture of the observing mind, intended 
 by Providence to be applied as occasion arises to 
 the world of experience with which by a beneficent,
 
 IDEALISM 159 
 
 if unexplained, adaptation they find themselves in a 
 pre-established harmony. On the contrary, they are 
 the ' necessary prius,' the antecedent condition, of 
 there being any experience at all; so that the difficul- 
 ty of subsequently extracting them from experience 
 does not arise. The world of phenomena is in truth 
 their creation ; so that the conformity between the 
 two need not be any subject of surprise. Thus, at 
 one and the same time does idealism vindicate ex- 
 perience and set the scepticism of the empiricist at 
 rest. 
 
 I doubt, however, whether this solution of the 
 problem will really stand the test of examination. 
 Assuming for the sake of argument that the world 
 is constituted by ' categories,' the old difficulty arises 
 in a new shape when we ask on what principle those 
 categories are in any given case to be applied. For 
 they are admittedly not of universal application ; and, 
 as the idealists themselves are careful to remind us, 
 there is no more fertile source of error than the im- 
 portation of them into a sphere wherein they have 
 no legitimate business. Take, for example, the cate- 
 gory of causation, from a scientific point of view the 
 most important of all. By what right does the 
 existence of this * principle of relation ' enable us to 
 assert that throughout the whole world every event 
 must have a cause, and every cause m ust be invariably 
 succeeded by the same event ? Because we can apply 
 the category, are we, therefore, bound to aj)ply it? 
 Docs any absurdity or contradiction ensue fi-om our
 
 l6o IDEALISM 
 
 supposing that the order of Nature is arbitrary and 
 casual, and that, repeat the antecedent with what 
 accuracy we may, there is no security that the ac- 
 customed consequent will follow? I must confess 
 that I can perceive none. Of course, we should thus 
 be deprived of one of our most useful ' principles of 
 unification ' ; but this would by no means result in the 
 universe resolving- itself into that unthinkable chaos 
 of unrelated atoms which is the idealist bugbear. 
 There are plenty of categories left ; and if the final 
 aim of philosophy be, indeed, to find the Many in 
 One and the One in Many, this end would be as 
 completely, if not as satisfactorily, accomplished by 
 conceiving the world to be presented to the thinking 
 'subject' in the haphazard multiplicity of unordered 
 succession, as by any more elaborate method. Its 
 various elements lying side by side in one Space and 
 one Time would still be related together in the con- 
 tent of a single experience; they would still form an 
 intelligible whole ; their unification would thus be ef- 
 fectually accomplished without the aid of the higher 
 categories. But it is evident that a universe so con- 
 stituted, though it might not be inconsistent with Phi- 
 losophy, could never be interpreted by Science. 
 
 As we saw in the earlier portion of this chapter, 
 it is not very easy to understand why, if the universe 
 be constituted by relations, and relations are the 
 work of the mind, the mind should be dependent on 
 experience for finding out anything about the uni- 
 verse. But granting the necessity of experience, it
 
 IDEALISM l6l 
 
 seems as hard to make that experience answer our 
 questions on the idealist as on the empirical hypothe- 
 sis. Neither on the one theory nor on the other does 
 any method exist for extracting general truths out of 
 particular observations, unless .y^'wr general truths are 
 first assumed. On the empirical hypothesis there are 
 no such general truths. Pure empiricism has, there- 
 fore, no claim to be a philosophy. On the idealist 
 hypothesis there appears to be only one general truth 
 applicable to the whole intelligible world — a world 
 which, be it recollected, includes everything in re- 
 spect to which language can be significantly used ; a 
 world which, therefore, includes the negative as well 
 as the positive, the false as well as the true, the im- 
 aginary as well as the real, the impossible as well as 
 the possible. This single all-embracing truth is that 
 the multiplicity of phenomena, whatever belts nature, 
 must always be united, and only exists in virtue of 
 being united, in the experience of a single self-con- 
 scious Subject. But this general proposition, what- 
 ever be its value, cannot, I conceive, effectually guide 
 us in the application of subordinate categories. It 
 supplies us with no method for appl3nng one principle 
 rather than another within the field of experience. It 
 cannot give us information as to what portion of that 
 field, if any, is subject to the law of causation, nor 
 tell us which of our perceptions, if any, may be taken 
 as evidence of the existence of a permanent world 
 of objects such as is iiiii)ti(.(l in all scientific doctrine. 
 Though, therefore, the old questions come upon us 
 
 II
 
 l62 IDEALISM 
 
 in a new form, clothed, I will not say shrouded, in a 
 new terminology, they come upon us with all the old 
 insistence. They are restated, but they are not 
 solved ; and I am unable, therefore, to find in idealism 
 any escape from the difficulties which, in the region 
 of theology, ethics, and science, empiricism leaves 
 upon our hands.^ 
 
 ' I have made in this chapter no reference to the idealistic theory 
 of cesthetics. Holding the views I have indicated upon the general 
 import of idealism, such a course seemed unnecessary. But I can- 
 not help thinking that even those who find in that theory a more 
 satisfactory basis for their convictions than I am able to do, must 
 feel that there is something rather forced and arbitrary in the at- 
 tempts that have been made to exhibit the artistic fancies of an 
 insignificant fraction of the human race during avery brief period of 
 its history as essential and important elements in the development 
 and manifestation of the ' Idea.'
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 PHILOSOPHY AND RATIONALISM 
 
 Briefly, if not adequately, I have now endeavoured 
 to indicate the weaknesses which seem to me to be 
 inseparable from any empirical theory of the uni- 
 verse, and almost equally to beset the idealistic 
 theory in the form given to it by its most systematic 
 exponents in this country. The reader may perhaps 
 feel tempted to ask whether I propose, in what pur- 
 ports to be an Introduction to Theology, to pass 
 under similar review all the metaphysical systems 
 which have from time to time held sway in the 
 schools, or have affected the general course of specu- 
 lative opinion. He need, however, be under no alarm. 
 My object is strictly practical ; and I have no con- 
 cern with theories, however admirable, which can 
 no longer pretend to any living philosophic power 
 — which have no de facto claims to present us with 
 a reasoned scheme of knowledge, and which can- 
 not prove their importance by actually supplying 
 grounds for the conviction of some fraction, at least, of 
 those by whom these pages may conceivably be read. 
 In saying that this condition is not satisfied by
 
 l64 PHILOSOPHY AND RATIONALISM 
 
 the great historic systems which mark with their 
 imperishable ruins the devious course of European 
 thought, I must not be understood as suggesting that 
 on that account these lack either value or interest. 
 All I say is, that their interest is not of a kind which 
 brings them properly within the scope of these 
 Notes. Whatever be the nature or amount of our 
 debt to the great metaphysicians of the past, unless 
 here and now we go to them not merely for stray 
 arguments on this or that question, but for a rea- 
 soned scheme of knowledge which shall include as 
 elements our own actual beliefs, their theories are 
 not, for the purposes of the present discussion, any 
 concern of ours. 
 
 Now, of how many systems, outside the two that 
 have already been touched on, can this even plausi- 
 bly be asserted ? Run over in memory some of 
 the most important. Men value Plato for his imag- 
 ination, for the genius with which he hazarded 
 solutions of the secular problems which perplex 
 mankind, for the finished art of his dialogue, for the 
 exquisite beauty of his style. But even if it could be 
 said — which it cannot — that he left a system, could 
 it be described as a system which, as such, has any 
 effectual vitality ? It would be difficult, perhaps 
 impossible, to sum up our debts to Aristotle. But 
 assuredly they do not include a tenable theory of 
 the universe. The Stoic scheme of life may still 
 touch our imagination ; but who takes any inter- 
 est in their metaphysics ? Who cares for their Soul
 
 PHILOSOPHY AND RATIONALISM 165 
 
 of the world, the periodic conflagrations, and the 
 recurring cycles of mundane events ? The Neo- 
 Platonists were mystics ; and mysticism is, as I sup- 
 pose, an undying element in human thought. But 
 who is concerned about their hierarchy of beings 
 connecting through infinite gradations the Absolute 
 at one end of the scale with Matter at the other ? 
 
 These, however, it may be said, were systems 
 belonging to the ancient world ; and mankind have 
 not busied themselves with speculation for these 
 two thousand years and more without making some 
 advance. I agree ; but in the matter of providing 
 us with a philosophy — with a reasoned system of 
 knowledge — has this advance been as yet sub- 
 stantial? If the ancients fail us, do we, indeed, fare 
 much better with the moderns ? Are the meta- 
 physics of Descartes more living than his physics ? 
 Do his two substances or kinds of substance, or the 
 single substance of Spinoza, or the innumerable 
 substances of Leibnitz, satisfy the searcher after 
 truth ? From the modern English form of the em- 
 piricism which dominated the eighteenth century, 
 and the idealism which disputes its suprema^cy in 
 the nineteenth, I have already ventured to express 
 a reasoned dissent. Are we, then, to look to such 
 schemes as Schopenhauer's philosophy of Will, 
 and Hartmann's philosophy of the Unconscious, to 
 supply us with the philosophical metaphysics of 
 which we arc in need ? They have admirers in 
 this country, but hardly convinced adherents. Of
 
 l66 PHILOSOPHY AND RATIONALISM 
 
 those who are quite prepared to accept their pes- 
 simism, how many are there who take seriously its 
 metaphysical foundation ? 
 
 In truth there are but three points of view from 
 which it seems worth while to make ourselves ac- 
 quainted with the growth, culmination, and decay 
 of the various metaphysical dynasties which have 
 successively struggled for supremacy in the world 
 of ideas. The first is purely historical. Thus re- 
 garded, metaphysical systems are simply significant 
 phenomena in the general history of man : symp- 
 toms of his spiritual condition, aids, it may be, to 
 his spiritual growth. The historian of philosophy, 
 as such, is therefore quite unconcerned with the 
 truth or falsehood of the opinions whose evolution 
 he is expounding. His business is merely to ac- 
 count for their existence, to exhibit them in their 
 proper historical setting, and to explain their char- 
 acter and their consequences. But, so considered, 
 I find it difficult to believe that these opinions have 
 been elements of primary importance to the ad- 
 vancement of mankind. All ages, indeed, which 
 have exhibited intellectual vigour have cultivated 
 one or more characteristic systems of metaphysics ; 
 but rarely, as it seems to me, have these systems 
 been in their turn important elements in determin- 
 ing the character of the periods in which they flour- 
 ished. They have been effects rather than causes ; 
 indications of the mood in which, under the special 
 stress of their time and circumstance, the most de-
 
 PHILOSOPHY AND RATIONALISM 167 
 
 tached intellects have faced the eternal problems of 
 humanity ; proofs of the unresting- desire of man- 
 kind to bring their beliefs into harmony with spec- 
 ulative reason. But the beliefs have almost always 
 preceded the speculations ; they have frequently 
 survived them ; and I cannot convince myself that 
 among the just titles to our consideration some- 
 times put forward on behalf of metaphysics we may 
 count her claim to rank as a powerful instrument of 
 progress. 
 
 No doubt — and here we come to the second 
 point of view alluded to above — the constant dis- 
 cussion of these high problems has not been barren 
 merely because it has not as yet led to their solu- 
 tion. Philosophers have mined for truth in many 
 directions, and the whole field of speculation seems 
 cumbered with the dross and lumber of their aban- 
 doned workings. But though they have not found 
 the ore they sought for, it does not therefore follow 
 that their labours have been wholly vain. It is 
 somethinij to have realised what not to do. It is 
 something to discover the causes of failure, even 
 though we do not attain any positive knowledge of 
 the conditions of success. It is an even more sub- 
 stantial gain to have done something towards dis- 
 engaging the questions which require to be dealt 
 with, and towards creating and perfecting the ter- 
 minology without which they can scarcely be ade- 
 quately stated, much less satisfactorily answered. 
 
 And there is yet a third point of view from
 
 l68 PHILOSOPHY AND RATIONALISM 
 
 which past metaphysical speculations are seen to 
 retain their value, a point of view which may be 
 called (not, I admit, without some little violence to 
 accustomed usage) the cesthctic. Because reasoning 
 occupies so large a place in metaphysical treatises 
 we are apt to forget that, as a rule, these are works 
 of imagination at least as much as of reason. Meta- 
 physicians are poets who deal with the abstract and 
 the super-sensible instead of the concrete and the 
 sensuous. To be sure they arc poets with a differ- 
 ence. Their appropriate and characteristic gifts 
 are not the vivid realisation of that which is given 
 in experience ; their genius does not prolong, as it 
 were, and echo through the remotest regions of feel- 
 ing the shock of some definite emotion ; they create 
 for us no new worlds of things and persons ; nor 
 can it be often said that the product of their la- 
 bours is a thing of beauty. Their style, it must be 
 owned, has not always been their strong point ; and 
 even when it is otherwise, mere graces of presenta- 
 tion arc but unessential accidents of their work. 
 Yet, in spite of all this, they can only be justly es- 
 timated by those who are prepared to apply to 
 them a quasi-aesthetic standard ; some other stand- 
 ard, at all events, than that supplied by purely 
 argumentative comment. It may perhaps be shown 
 that their metaphysical constructions are faulty, 
 that their demonstrations do not convince, that 
 their most permanent dialectical triumphs have 
 fallen to them in the paths of criticism and negation.
 
 PHILOSOPHY AND RATIONALISM 169 
 
 Yet even then the last word will not have been 
 said. For claims to our admiration will still be 
 found in their brilliant intuitions, in the subtlety of 
 their occasional arguments, in their passion for the 
 Universal and the Abiding, in their steadfast faith 
 in the rationality of the world, in the devotion with 
 which they are content to live and move in realms 
 of abstract speculation too far removed from ordi- 
 nary interests to excite the slightest genuine sym- 
 pathy in the breasts even of the cultivated few. If, 
 therefore, we are for a moment tempted, as surely 
 may sometimes happen, to contemplate with re- 
 spectful astonishment some of the arguments which 
 the illustrious authors of the great historic systems 
 have thought good enough to support their case, 
 let it be remembered that for minds in which the 
 critical intellect holds undisputed sway, the crea- 
 tion of any system whatever in the present state of 
 our knowledge is, perhaps, impossible. Only those 
 in whom powers of philosophical criticism are bal- 
 anced, or more than balanced, by powers of meta- 
 physical imagination can be fitted to undertake the 
 task. Though even to them success may be impos- 
 sible, at least the illusion of success is permitted ; 
 and but for them mankind would fall away in hope- 
 less discouragement from its highest intellectual 
 ideal, and speculation would be strangled at its 
 birth. 
 
 To some, indeed, it may appear as if the loss 
 would not, after all, be great. What use, they may
 
 1 
 
 T/O PHILOSOPHY AND RATIONALISM 
 
 exclaim, can be found for any system which will 
 not stand critical examination? What value has 
 reasoning which does not satisfy the reason ? How 
 can we know that these abstruse investigations sup- 
 ply even a fragmentary contribution towards a final 
 philosophy, until we are able to look back upon 
 them from the perhaps inaccessible vantage ground 
 to be supplied by this final philosophy itself ? To 
 such questionings I do not profess to find a com- 
 pletely satisfactory answer. Yet even those who 
 feel inclined to rate extant speculations at the low- 
 est value will perhaps admit that metaphysics, like 
 art, give us something we could ill afford to spare. 
 Art may not have provided us with any reflection 
 of immortal beauty ; nor metaphysics have brought 
 us into communion with eternal truth. Yet both 
 may have historic value. In speculation, as in art, 
 we find a vivid expression of the changeful mind of 
 man, and the interest of both, perhaps, is at its 
 highest when they most clearly reflect the spirit of 
 the age which gave them birth, when they are most 
 racy of the soil from which they sprung. 
 
 II 
 
 To this point I may have to return. But my 
 more immediate business is to bring home to the 
 reader's mind the consequences which may be 
 drawn from the admission — supposing him disposed
 
 PHILOSOPHY AND RATIONALISM l/I 
 
 to make it — that we have at the present time neither 
 a satisfactory S3'stem of metaphysics nor a satisfac- 
 tory theory of science. Many persons, perhaps it 
 would not be too much to say most persons, are 
 prepared contentedly to accept the first of these 
 propositions ; but it is on the truth of the second 
 that I desire to lay at least an equal stress. The 
 first man one meets in the street thinks it quite nat- 
 ural to accept the opinion that sense-experience is 
 the only source of rational conviction ; that every- 
 thing to which it does not testify is untrue, or, if 
 true, falls within the domain, not of knowledge, but 
 of faith. Yet the criticism of knowledge indicated 
 in the two preceding chapters shows how one- 
 sided is such a view. If faith be provisionally de- 
 fined as conviction apart from or in excess of proof, 
 then it is upon faith that the maxims of daily life, 
 not less than the loftiest creeds and the most far- 
 reaching discoveries, must ultimately lean. The 
 ground on which constant habit and inherited pre- 
 dispositions enable us to tread with a step so easy 
 and so assured, is seen on examination to be not less 
 hollow beneath our feet than the dim and unfamiliar 
 regions which lie beyond. Certitude is found to be 
 the child, not of Reason, but of Custom ; and if we 
 are less perplexed about the beliefs on which we 
 are hourly called upon to act than about those 
 which do not touch so closely our obvious and im- 
 mediate needs, it is not because the questions sug- 
 gested by the former arc easier to answer, but be-
 
 1/2 PHILOSOPHY AND RATIONALISM 
 
 cause as a matter of fact we are much less inclined 
 to ask them. 
 
 Now, if this be true, it is plainly a fact of capi- 
 tal importance. It must revolutionise our whole 
 attitude towards the problems presented to us by 
 science, ethics, and theology. It must destroy the 
 ordinary tests and standards, whereby we measure 
 essential truth. In particular, it requires us to see 
 what is commonly, if rather absurdly, called the 
 conflict between religion and science in a wholly 
 new aspect. We can no longer be content with the 
 simple view, once universally accepted, that when- 
 ever any discrepancy, real or supposed, occurs be- 
 tween the two, science must be rejected as hereti- 
 cal ; nor with the equally simple view, to which the 
 former has long given place, that every theological 
 statement, if unsupported by science, is doubtful ; 
 if inconsistent with science, is false. 
 
 Opinions like these are evidently tolerable only 
 on the hypothesis that we are in possession of a 
 body of doctrine which is not only itself philosoph- 
 ically established, but to whose canons of proof 
 all other doctrines are bound to conform. But if 
 there is no such body of doctrine, what then ? Are 
 we arbitrarily to erect one department of belief into 
 a law-giver for all the others ? Are we to say that 
 though no scheme of knowledge exists, certain in 
 its first principles, and coherent in its elaborated 
 conclusions, yet that from among the provisional 
 schemes which we are inclined practically to accept
 
 PHILOSOPHY AND RATIONALISM 1 73 
 
 one is to be selected at random, within whose limits, 
 and there alone, the spirit of man may range in con- 
 fident security ? 
 
 Such a position is speculatively untenable. It 
 involves a use of the Canon of Consistency not 
 justified by any philosophy ; and as it is indefensible 
 in theory, so it is injurious in practice. For, in truth, 
 though the contented acquiescence in inconsistency 
 is the abandonment of the philosophic quest, the de- 
 termination to obtain consistency at all costs has 
 been the prolific parent of many intellectual narrow- 
 nesses and many frigid bigotries. It has shown 
 itself in various shapes ; it has stifled and stunted 
 the free movement of thought in different ages and 
 diverse schools of speculation ; its unhappy effects 
 may be traced in much theology which professes to 
 be orthodox, in much criticism which delights to be 
 heterodox. It is, moreover, the characteristic note 
 of a not inconsiderable class of intelligences who 
 conceive themselves to be specially reasonable be- 
 cause they are constantly employed in reasoning, 
 and who can find no better method of advancing 
 the cause of knowledge than to press to their ex- 
 treme logical conclusions principles of which, per- 
 haps, the best that can be said is that they contain, 
 as it were in solution, some element of truth which 
 no reagents at our command will as yet permit us to 
 isolate.
 
 174 PHILOSOPHY AND RATIONALISM 
 
 III 
 
 That I am here attacking no imaginary evil 
 will, I think, be evident to any reader who recalls 
 the general trend of educated opinion during the 
 last three centuries. It is, of course, true that in 
 dealing with so vague and loosely outlined an object 
 as 'educated opinion' we must beware of attribut- 
 ing to large masses of men the acceptance of an}- 
 carefully-thought-out or definitely articulated sys- 
 tem. Systems are, and must be, for the few. The 
 majority of mankind are content with a mood or 
 temper of thought, an impulse not fully reasoned 
 out, a habit guiding them to the acceptance and 
 assimilation of some opinions and the rejection of 
 others, which acts almost as automatically as the 
 processes of physical digestion. Behind these half- 
 realised motives, and in closest association with 
 them, may sometimes, no doubt, be found a 'theory 
 of things' which is their logical and explicit expres- 
 sion. But it is certainly not necessary, and perhaps 
 not usual, that this theory should be clearly formu- 
 lated by those who seem to obey it. Nor for our 
 present purpose is there any important distinction 
 to be made between the case of the few who find a 
 reason for their habitual judgments, and that of the 
 many who do not. 
 
 Keeping this caution in mind, we may consider 
 without risk of misconception an illustration of the
 
 PHILOSOPHY AND RATIONALISM 175 
 
 misuse of the Canon of Consistency provided for us 
 by the theory corresponding to that tendency of 
 thought which has played so large a part in the 
 development of the modern mind, and which is 
 commonly known as Rationalism. Now what is 
 Rationalism ? Some may be disposed to reply that 
 it is the free and unfettered application of human 
 intelligence to the problems of life and of the world ; 
 the unprejudiced examination of every question in 
 the dry light of emancipated reason. This may be 
 a very good account of a particular intellectual 
 ideal ; an ideal which has been sought after at many 
 periods of the world's history, although assuredly it 
 has been attained in none. Usage, however, per- 
 mits and even encourages us to employ the word 
 in a much more restricted sense : as indicating a 
 special form of that reaction against dogmatic the- 
 ology which may be said with sufficient accuracy to 
 have taken its rise in the Renaissance, to have in- 
 creased in force and volume during the seventeenth 
 and eighteenth centuries, and to have reached its 
 most complete expression in the Naturalism which 
 occupied our attention through the first portion 
 of these Notes. A reaction of some sort was no 
 doubt inevitable. Men found themselves in a world 
 where Literature, Art, and Science were enormous- 
 ly extending the range of human interests ; in which 
 Religion seemed only to be approachable through 
 the languishing controversies which had burnt with 
 so fierce a flame during the sixteenth and seven-
 
 176 PHILOSOPHY AND PvATIOiNALlSM 
 
 teenth centuries ; in which accepted theological 
 methods had their roots in a very different period 
 of intellectual growth, and were ceasing to be 
 appropriate to the new developments. At such a 
 time there was, undoubtedly, an important and even 
 a necessary work to be done. The mind of man 
 cannot, any more than the body, vary in one direc- 
 tion alone. The whole organism suffers or gains 
 from the change, and every faculty and every limb 
 must be somewhat modified in order successfully to 
 meet the new demands thrown upon it by the 
 altered balance of the remainder. So is it also in 
 matters intellectual. It is hopeless to expect that 
 new truths and new methods of investigation can be 
 acquired without the old truths requiring to be in 
 some respects reconsidered and restated, surveyed 
 under a new aspect, measured, perhaps, by a differ- 
 ent standard. Much had, therefore, to be modified, 
 and something — let us admit it — had to be destroyed. 
 The new system could hardly produce its best 
 results until the refuse left by the old system had 
 been removed ; until the waste products were elimi- 
 nated which, like those of a muscle too long exer- 
 cised, poisoned and clogged the tissues in which 
 they had once played the part of living and effec- 
 tive elements. 
 
 The world, then, required enlightenment, and 
 the rationalists proceeded after their own fashion to 
 enlighten it. Unfortunately, however, their whole 
 procedure was tainted by an original vice of method
 
 PHILOSOPHY AND RATIONALISM 177 
 
 which made it impossible to carry on the honour- 
 able, if comparatively humble, work of clearance 
 and purification without, at the same time, destroy- 
 ing much that ought properly to have been pre- 
 served. They were not content with protesting 
 against practical abuses, with vindicating the free- 
 dom of science from theological bondage, with criti- 
 cising the defects and explaining the limitations of 
 the somewhat cumbrous and antiquated apparatus 
 of prevalent theological controversy — apparatus, no 
 doubt, much better contrived for dealing with the 
 points on which theologians differ than for defend- 
 ing against a common enemy the points on which 
 theologians are for the uK^st part agreed. These 
 things, no doubt, to the best of their power, they 
 did ; and to the doing of them no objection need be 
 raised. The objection is to the principle on which 
 the things were done. That principle appeared 
 under many disguises, and was called by many 
 names. Sometimes describing itself as Common- 
 sense, sometimes as Science, sometimes as Enlight- 
 enment, with infinite varieties of application and 
 great diversity of doctrine. Rationalism consisted 
 essentially in the application, consciously or uncon- 
 sciously, of one great method to the decision of 
 every controversy, to the moulding of every creed. 
 Did a belief square with a view of the universe 
 based exclusively upon the prevalent mode of inter- 
 preting sense-perception? If so, it might survive. 
 Did it clash with such UKjdc, or lie beyond it? It 
 12
 
 178 PHILOSOPHY AND RATIONALISM 
 
 was superstitious ; it was unscientific ; it was ridicu- 
 lous ; in was incredible. Was it neither in harmony 
 with nor antagonistic to such a view, but simply be- 
 side it? It might live on until it became atrophied 
 from lack of use, a mere survival of a dead past. 
 
 These judgments were not, as a rule, supported 
 by any very profound arguments. Rationalists as 
 such are not philosophers. They are not pantheists 
 nor speculative materialists. They ignore, if they 
 do not despise, metaphysics, and in practice es- 
 chew the search for first principles. But they judge 
 as men of the world, equally reluctant to criticise 
 too closely methods which succeed so admirably in 
 everyday affairs, or to admit that any other methods 
 can possibly be required by men of sense. 
 
 Of course, a principle so loosely conceived has 
 led at different times and in different stages of 
 knowledge to very different results. Through the 
 greater portion of the world's history the ' ordinary 
 mode of interpreting sense-perception ' has been 
 perfectly consistent with so-called 'supernatural' 
 phenomena. It may become so again. And if dur- 
 ing the rationalising centuries this has not been the 
 case, it is because the interpretation of sense-per- 
 ceptions has during that period been more and 
 more governed by that Naturalistic theory of the 
 world to which it has been steadily gravitating. It 
 is true that the process of eliminating incongruous 
 beliefs has been gradual. The general body of ra- 
 tionalisers have been slow to see and reluctant to
 
 PHILOSOPHY AND RATIONALISM 1/9 
 
 accept the full consequences of their own princi- 
 ples. The assumption that the kind of ' experience' 
 which efave us natural science was the sole basis of 
 knowledge did not at first, or necessarily, carry 
 with it the further inference that nothing deserved 
 to be called knowledge which did not come within 
 the circle of the natural sciences. But the inference 
 was practically, if not logically, inevitable. Theism, 
 Deism, Design, Soul, Conscience, Morality, Immor- 
 tality, Freedom, Beauty — these and cognate words 
 associated with the memory of great controversies 
 mark tlie points at which rationalists who are not 
 also naturalists have sought to come to terms with 
 the rationalising spirit, or to make a stand against 
 its onward movement. It has been in vain. At 
 some places the fortunes of battle hung long in 
 the balance ; at others the issues may yet seem 
 doubtful. Those who have given up God can still 
 make a fight for conscience ; those who have 
 abandoned moral responsibility may still console 
 themselves with artistic beauty. But, to my think- 
 infif, at least, the strusfo-le can have but one termina- 
 tion. TIabit and education may delay the inevitable 
 conclusion ; they cannot in the end avert it. For 
 these ideas are no native growth of a rationalist 
 epoch, strong in their harmony with contemporary 
 moods of thought. They are the products of a dif- 
 ferent age, survivals from, as some think, a decay- 
 ing system. And howsoever stubbornly they may 
 resist the influences of an alien environment, if this
 
 l8o PHILOSOPHY AND RATIONALISM 
 
 undergoes no change, in the end they must surely 
 perish. 
 
 Naturalism, then, the naturalism whose practical 
 consequences have already occupied us so long, is 
 nothing more than the result of rationalising meth- 
 ods applied with pitiless consistency to the whole 
 circuit of belief; it is the completed product of ra- 
 tionalism, the final outcome of using the ' current 
 methods of intcrpi-eting sense-perception ' as the 
 universal instrument for determining the nature 
 and fixing the limits of human knowledge. What 
 wealth of spiritual possession this creed requires us 
 to give up I have already explained. What, then, 
 does it promise us in exchange ? It promises us 
 Consistency. Religion may perish at its touch, it 
 may strip Virtue and Beauty of their most precious 
 attributes ; but in exchange it promises us Con- 
 sistency. True, the promise is in any circum- 
 stances but imperfectly kept. This creed, which 
 so arrogantly requires that everything is to be 
 made consistent with it, is not, as we have seen, 
 consistent with itself. The humblest attempts to 
 co-ordinate and to justify the assumptions on which 
 it proceeds with such unquestioning confidence 
 bring to light speculative perplexities and contra- 
 dictions whose very existence seems unsuspected, 
 whose solution is not even attempted. But even 
 were it otherwise we should still be bound to pro- 
 test against the assumption that consistency is a 
 necessity of the intellectual life, to be purchased, if
 
 PHILOSOrHY AND RATIONALISM iSl 
 
 need be, at famine prices. It is a valuable commod- 
 ity, but it may be bought too dear. No doubt a 
 principal function of Reason is to smooth away con- 
 tradictions, to knock off corners, and to fit, as far as 
 may be, each separate belief into its proper place 
 within the framework of one harmonious creed. 
 No doubt, also, it is impossible to regard any theory 
 which lacks self-consistenc}' as either satisfactory or 
 final. But principles going far beyond admissions 
 like these are required to compel us to acquiesce 
 in rationalising methods and naturalistic results, to 
 the destruction of every form of belief with which 
 they do not happen to agree. Before such terms of 
 surrender are accepted, at least the victorious sys- 
 tem must show, not merely that its various parts are 
 consistent with each other, but that the whole is 
 authenticated by Reason. Until this task is accom- 
 plished (and how far at present it is from being ac- 
 complished in the case of naturalism the reader 
 knows) it would be an act of mere blundering Un- 
 reason to set up as the universal standard of belief 
 a theory of things which itself stands in so great 
 need of rational defence, or to make a reckless and 
 unthinking application of the canon of consistency 
 when our knowledge of first principles is so mani- 
 festly defective.
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 RATIONALIST ORTHODOXY 
 
 At this point, however, it may perhaps occur to 
 the reader that I have somewhat too lightly as- 
 sumed that Rationalism is the high-road to Natural- 
 ism. Why, it may be asked, is there any insuper- 
 able difficulty in framing another scheme of belief 
 which shall permanently satisfy the requirements of 
 consistency, and harmonise in its general procedure 
 with the rationalising spirit ? Why are we to as- 
 sume that the extreme type of this mode of thought 
 is the only stable type ? Such doubts would be the 
 more legitimate because there is actually in exis- 
 tence a scheme of great historic importance, and 
 some present interest, by which it has been sought 
 to run Modern Science and Theology together into 
 a single coherent and self-sufficient system of 
 thought, by the simple process of making Science 
 supply all the premises on which theological conclu- 
 sions are afterwards based. If this device be really 
 adequate, no doubt much of what was said in the 
 last chapter, and much that will have to be said 
 in future chapters, becomes superfluous. If 'our 
 ordinary method of interpreting sense-perception,' 
 which gives us Science, is able also to supply us
 
 RATIONALIST ORTHODOXY 1 83 
 
 with Theology, then at least, whether it be philo- 
 sophically valid or not, the majority of mankind may 
 very well rest content with it until philosophers 
 come to some agreement about a better. If it does 
 not satisfy the philosophic critic, it will probably 
 satisfy everyone else ; and even the philosophic 
 critic need not quarrel with its practical outcome. 
 
 The system by which these results are thought 
 to be attained pursues the following method. It 
 divides Theology into Natural and Revealed. Nat- 
 ural Theology expounds the theological beliefs 
 which may be arrived at by a consideration of the 
 general course of Nature as this is explained to us 
 by Science. It dwells principally upon the number- 
 less examples of adaptation in the organic world, 
 which apparently display the most marvellous indi- 
 cations of ingenious contrivance, and the nicest ad- 
 justment of means to ends. From facts like these 
 it is inferred that Nature has an intelligent and a 
 powerful Creator. From the further fact that these 
 adjustments and contrivances arc in a large number 
 of cases designed for the interests of beings capable 
 of pleasure and pain, it is inferred that the Creator 
 is not only intelligent and powerful, but also benevo- 
 lent ; and the inquiring mind is then supposed to be 
 sufficiently prepared to consider without prejudice 
 the evidence for there having been a special Revela- 
 tion by which further truths may have been im- 
 parted, not otherwise accessible to our unassisted 
 powers of speculation.
 
 1 84 RATIONALIST ORTHODOXY 
 
 The evidences of Revealed Religion are not 
 drawn, like those of Natural Religion, from general 
 laws and widely disseminated particulars ; but they 
 profess none the less to be solely based upon facts 
 which, according to the classification I have adhered 
 to throughout these Notes, belong to the scientific 
 order. According to this theory, the logical bur- 
 den of the entire theological structure is thrown 
 upon the evidence for certain events which took 
 place long ago, and principally in a small district to 
 the east of the Mediterranean, the occurrence of 
 which is sought to be proved by the ordinary 
 methods of historical investigation, and by these 
 alone — unless, indeed, we are to regard as an im- 
 portant ally the aforementioned presumption sup- 
 plied by Natural Theology. It is true, of course, 
 that the immediate reason for accepting the beliefs 
 of Revealed Religion is that the religion is revealed. 
 But it is thought to be revealed because it was pro- 
 mulgated by teachers who were inspired ; the teach- 
 ers are thought to have been inspired because 
 they worked miracles; and they are thought to 
 have worked miracles because there is historical 
 evidence of the fact, which it is supposed would be 
 more than sufficient to produce conviction in any 
 unbiassed mind. 
 
 Now it must be conceded that if this general 
 train of reasoning be assumed to cover the whole 
 ground of ' Christian Evidences,' then, whether it 
 be conclusive or inconclusive, it does at least attain
 
 RATIONALIST ORTHODOXY 1 85 
 
 the desideratum of connecting Science on the one 
 hand, Religion— ' Natural' and 'Revealed' — on the 
 other, into one single scheme of interconnected prop- 
 ositions. But it attains it by making Theology in 
 form a mere annex or appendix to Science ; a mere 
 footnote to history ; a series of conclusions inferred 
 from data which have been arrived at by precise- 
 ly the same methods as those which enable us to 
 pronounce upon the probability of any other events 
 in the past history of man, or of the world in which 
 he lives. We are no longer dealing with a creed 
 whose real premises lie deep in the nature of 
 things. It is no question of metaphysical specula- 
 tion, moral intuition, or mystical ecstasy with which 
 we are concerned. We are asked to believe the 
 Universe to have been designed by a Deity for the 
 same sort of reason that we believe Canterbury 
 Cathedral to have been designed by an architect ; 
 and to believe in the events narrated in the Gospels 
 for the same sort of reason that we believe in the 
 murder of Thomas a Becket. 
 
 Now I am not concerned to maintain that these 
 arguments are bad ; on the contrary, my personal 
 opinion is that, as far as they go, they are good. 
 The argument, or perhaps I should say an argu- 
 ment, from design, in some shape or other, will al- 
 ways have value ; while the argument from history 
 must always form a part of the evidence for an}^ 
 historical religion. The first will, in my opinion, 
 survive any inferences from the doctrine of natural
 
 1 86 RATIONALIST ORTHODOXY 
 
 selection ; the second will survive the consequences 
 of critical assaults. But more than this is desirable; 
 more than this is, indeed, necessary. For however 
 good arguments of this sort are, or may be made, 
 they are not equal by themselves to the task of up- 
 setting so massive an obstacle as developed Natur- 
 alism. They have not, as it were, sufficient intrinsic 
 energy to effect so great a change. They may not 
 be ill directed, but they lack momentum. They may 
 not be technically defective, but they are assuredly 
 practically inadequate. 
 
 To many this may appear self-evident. Those 
 who doubt it will, I think, be convinced of its truth 
 if they put themselves for a moment in the position 
 of a man trained on the strictest principles of Natu- 
 ralism ; acquainted with the general methods and 
 results of Science ; cognisant of the general course 
 of secular human history, and of the means by 
 which the critic and the scholar have endeavoured 
 to extort the truth from the records of the past. To 
 such a man the growth and decay of great religions, 
 the legends of wonders worked and suffering en- 
 dured by holy men in many ages and in different 
 countries, are familiar facts— to be fitted somehow 
 into his general scheme of knowledge. They are 
 phenomena to be explained by anthropology and 
 sociology, instructive examples of the operation of 
 natural law at a particular stage of human develop- 
 ment — this, and nothing more. 
 
 Now present to one whose mind has been so
 
 RATIONALIST ORTHODOXY 1 8/ 
 
 prepared and disciplined, first this account of Natu- 
 ral Religion, and then this version of the evidences 
 for Revelation. So far as Natural Religion is con- 
 cerned he will probably content himself with say- 
 ing, that to argue from the universality of causation 
 within the world to the necessity of First Cause 
 outside the world is a process of very doubtful va- 
 lidity : that to argue from the character of the 
 world to the benevolence of its Author is a process 
 more doubtful still : but that, in anv case, we need 
 not disturb ourselves about matters we so little 
 understand, inasmuch as the Deity thus inferred, 
 if He really exists, completed the only task which 
 Natural Religion supposes Him to have undertaken 
 when, in a past immeasurably remote, he set going 
 the machinery of causes and effects, which has ever 
 since been in undisturbed operation, and about 
 which alone we have any real sources of information. 
 Supposing, however, you have induced your 
 Naturalistic philosopher to accept, if only for the 
 sake of argument, this version of Natural Religion, 
 what will he say to your method of extracting the 
 proofs of Revealed Religion from the Gospel his- 
 tory? Explain to him that there is good historic 
 evidence of the usual sort for believing that for one 
 brief interval during the history of the Universe, 
 and in one small corner of this planet, the continu- 
 ous chain of universal causation has been broken ; 
 that in an insignificant country inhabited by an un- 
 important branch of the Semitic peoples events are
 
 1 88 RATIONALIST ORTHODOXY 
 
 alleged to have taken place which, if they really 
 occurred, at once turn into foolishness the whole 
 theory in the light of which he has been accus- 
 tomed to interpret human experience, and convey 
 to us knowledge which no mere contemplation of 
 the general order of Nature could enable us even 
 dimly to anticipate. What would be his reply? 
 His reply would be, nay, is (for our imaginary in- 
 terlocutor has unnumbered prototypes in the world 
 about us), that questions like these can scarcely be 
 settled by the mere accumulation of historic proofs. 
 Granting all that was asked, and more, perhaps, 
 than ought to be conceded ; granting that the evi- 
 dences for these wonders was far stronger than any 
 that could be produced in favour of the apocryphal 
 miracles which crowd the annals of every people ; 
 granting even that the evidence seemed far more 
 than sufficient to establish any incident, however 
 strange, which does not run counter to the rec- 
 ognised course of Nature ; what then ? We were 
 face to face with a difficulty, no doubt ; but the in- 
 terpretation of the past was necessarily full of dif- 
 ficulties. Conflicts of testimony with antecedent 
 probability, conflicts of different testimonies with 
 each other, were the familiar perplexities of the 
 historic inquirer. In thousands of cases no abso- 
 lutely satisfactory solution could be arrived at. 
 Possibly the Gospel histories were among these. 
 Neither the theory of myths, nor the theory of 
 contemporary fraud, nor the theory of late inven-
 
 RATIONALIST ORTHODOXY 1 89 
 
 tion, nor any other which the ingenuit}' of critics 
 could devise, might provide a perfect!}' clean-cut 
 explanation of the phenomena. But at least it 
 might be said with confidence that no explanation 
 could be less satisfactory than one which required 
 us, on the strength of three or four ancient docu- 
 ments — at the best written by eye-witnesses of little 
 education and no scientific knowledge, at the worst 
 spurious and of no authority — to remodel and revo- 
 lutionise every principle which governs us with an 
 unquestioned jurisdiction in our judgments on the 
 Universe at large. 
 
 Thus, slightly modifying Hume, might the dis- 
 ciple of Naturalism reply. And as against the 
 rationalising theologian, is not his answer conclu- 
 sive ? The former has borrowed the premises, the 
 methods, and all the positive conclusions of Nat- 
 uralism. He advances on the same strategic prin- 
 ciples, and from the same base of operations. And 
 though he professes by these means to have over- 
 run a whole continent of alien conclusions with 
 which Naturalism will have nothing to do, can he 
 permanently retain it? Is it not certain that the 
 huge expanse of his theology, attached by so slen- 
 der a tie to the main system of which it is intended 
 to be a dependency, will sooner or later have to be 
 abandoned ; and that the weak and artificial con- 
 nection which has been so ingeniously contrived 
 will snap at the first strain to which it shall be sub- 
 jected by the forces either of criticism or sentiment ?
 
 PART III 
 
 SOME CAUSES OF BELIEF
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 CAUSES OF EXPERIENCE 
 
 So far the results at which we have arrived may be 
 not unfairly described as purely negative. In the 
 first part of these Notes I endeavoured to show that 
 Naturalism was practically insufficient. In the first 
 chapter of Part II. I indicated the view that it was 
 speculatively incoherent. The obvious conclusion 
 was therefore drawn, that under these circumstances 
 it was in the highest degree absurd to employ with 
 an unthinking rigour the canon of consistency as if 
 Rationalism, which is Naturalism in embryo, or 
 Naturalism, which is Rationalism developed, placed 
 us in the secure possession of some unerring 
 standard of truth to which all our beliefs must be 
 made to conform. A brief criticism of one theolog- 
 ical scheme, by which it has been sought to avoid 
 the narrownesses of Naturalism without break- 
 ing with Rationalising methods, confirmed the con- 
 clusion that any such procedure is predestined to 
 be ineffectual, and that no mere inferences of the 
 ordinary pattern, based upon ordinar}^ experience, 
 will enable us to break out of the Naturalistic 
 prison-house. 
 13
 
 194 CAUSES OF EXPERIENCE 
 
 But if Naturalism by itself be practically insuf- 
 ficient, if no conclusion based on its affirmations will 
 enable us to escape from the cold grasp of its nega- 
 tions, and if, as I think, the contrasted system of 
 Idealism has not as yet got us out of the difificulty, 
 what remedy remains? One such remedy consists 
 in simply setting up side by side with the creed of 
 natural science another and supplementary set of 
 beliefs, which may minister to needs and aspirations 
 which science cannot meet, and may speak amid 
 silences which science is powerless to break. The 
 natural world and the spiritual world, the world 
 which is immediately subject to causation and the 
 world which is immediately subject to God, are, on 
 this view, each of them real, and each of them the 
 objects of real knowledge. But the laws of the 
 natural world are revealed to us by the discoveries 
 of science ; while the laws of the spiritual world are 
 revealed to us through the authority of spiritual 
 intuitions, inspired witnesses, or divinely guided 
 institutions. And the two regions of knowledge lie 
 side by side, contiguous but not connected, like em- 
 pires of different race and language, which own no 
 common jurisdiction nor hold any intercourse with 
 each other, except along a disputed and wavering 
 frontier where no superior power exists to settle 
 their quarrels or determine their respective limits. 
 
 To thousands of persons this patchwork scheme 
 of belief, though it may be in a form less sharply 
 defined, has, in substance, commended itself; and if
 
 CAUSES OF EXPERIENCE 195 
 
 and in so far as it really meets their needs I have 
 nothing to say against it, and can hold out small 
 hope of bettering it. It is much more satisfactory 
 as regards its content than Naturalism ; it is not 
 much less philosophical as regards its method ; 
 and it has the practical merit of supplying a rough- 
 and-ready expedient for avoiding the consequences 
 which follow from a premature endeavour to force 
 the general body of belief into the rigid limits of 
 one too narrow system. 
 
 It has, however, obvious inconveniences. There 
 are many persons, and they are increasing in num- 
 ber, who find it difficult or impossible to acquiesce 
 in this unconsidered division of the * Whole ' of 
 knowledge into two or more unconnected frag- 
 ments. Naturalism may be practically unsatisfac- 
 tory. But at least the positive teaching of Natural- 
 ism has secured general assent ; and it shocks their 
 philosophic instinct for unity to be asked to patch 
 and plaster this accepted creed with a number of 
 heterogeneous propositions drawn from an entirely 
 different source, and on behalf of which no such 
 common agreement can be claimed. 
 
 What such persons ask for, and rightly, is a 
 philosophy, a scheme of knowledge, which shall 
 give rational unity to an adequate creed. But, as 
 the reader knows, I have it not to give ; nor does it 
 even seem to me that we have any right to Hatter 
 ourselves that wc arc on the verge of discovering 
 some all-reconciling tlicoiy by which each inevitable
 
 196 CAUSES OF EXPERIENCE 
 
 claim of our complex nature may be harmonised 
 under the supremacy of Reason. Unity, then, if it 
 is to be attained at all, must be sought for, so to 
 speak, at some lower speculative level. We must 
 either pursue the Rationalising and Naturalistic 
 method already criticised, and compel the desired 
 unification of belief by the summary rejection of 
 everything which does not fit into some convenient 
 niche in the scheme of things developed by em- 
 pirical methods out of sense-perception ; or if, either 
 for the reasons given in the earlier chapters of these 
 Notes, or for others, we reject this method, we must 
 turn for assistance towards a new quarter, and apply 
 ourselves to the problem by the aid of some more 
 comprehensive, or at least more manageable, prin- 
 ciple. 
 
 II 
 
 To this end let us temporarily divest ourselves 
 of all philosophic preoccupation. Provisionally re- 
 stricting ourselves to the scientific point of view, 
 let us forbear to consider beliefs from the side of 
 proof, and let us survey them for a season from the 
 side of origin only, and in their relation to the 
 causes which gave them birth. Thus considered 
 they are, of course, mere products of natural con- 
 ditions; psychological growths comparable to the 
 flora and fauna of continents or oceans ; objects of 
 which we may say that they are useful or harmful, 
 plentiful or rare, but not, except parenthetically and
 
 CAUSES OF EXPERIENCE I97 
 
 with a certain irrelevance, that they are true or 
 untrue. 
 
 How, then, would these beliefs appear to an in- 
 vestigator from another planet who, applying the 
 ordinary methods of science, and in a spirit of de- 
 tached curiosity, should survey them from the out- 
 side, with no other object than to discover the place 
 they occupied in the natural history of the earth 
 and its inhabitants? He would note, I suppose, to 
 begin with, that the vast majority of these beliefs 
 were the short-lived offspring of sense-perception, 
 instinctive judgments on observed matter-of-fact. 
 * The sun is shining,' * there is somebody in the room,' 
 ' I feel tired,' would be examples of this class ; whose 
 members, from the nature of the case, refer imme- 
 diately only to the passing moment, and die as soon 
 as they are born. If now our investigator turned his 
 attention to the causes of these beliefs of perception, 
 he would, of course, discover, in the first place, that, 
 when normal, they were invariably due to the action 
 of external objects upon the organism, and more par- 
 ticularly upon the nervous system, of the percipient; 
 and in the second place, that though these beliefs 
 were thus all due to a certain kind of neural change, 
 the converse of the proposition is by no means true, 
 since, taking the organic world at large, it was by 
 no means the case that neural changes of this kind 
 invariably, or even usually, issued in beliefs of per- 
 ception, or, indeed, in any psychical result whatever. 
 
 For consider how the case must present itself to
 
 198 CAUSES OF EXPERIENCE 
 
 our supposed observer. He would see a series of or- 
 ganisms possessed of nervous systems ranging from 
 the most rudimentary type to the most complex. 
 He would observe that the action of the exterior 
 world upon those systems varied, in like manner, 
 from the simple irritation of the nerve-tissue to the 
 multitudinous correspondences and adjustments in- 
 volved in some act of vision by man or one of the 
 higher mammals. And he would conclude, and 
 rightly, that between the upper and the lower mem- 
 bers of the scale there were differences of degree, 
 but not of kind ; and that existing gaps might be 
 conceived as so filled in that each type might melt 
 into the one immediately below it by insensible gra- 
 dations. 
 
 If, however, he endeavoured to draw up a scale 
 of psychical effects whose degrees should correspond 
 with this scale of physiological causes, two results 
 would make themselves apparent. The first is, that 
 the lower part of the psychical scale would be a blank, 
 because in the case of the simple organisms nervous 
 changes carried with them no mental consequents. 
 The second is, that even when mental consequents 
 do appear, they form no continuous series like their 
 physiological antecedents ; but, on the contrary, 
 those at the top of the scale are found to differ in 
 something more than degree from those which appear 
 lower down. We do not, for example, suppose that 
 protozoa can properly be said to feel, nor that every 
 animal which feels can properly be said to form
 
 CAUSES OF EXPERIENCE 199 
 
 judgments or to possess immediate beliefs of percep- 
 tion. 
 
 One conclusion our observer would, I suppose, 
 draw from facts like these is, that while neural sen- 
 sibility to external influences is a widespread bene- 
 fit to organic Nature, the feelings, and still more 
 the beliefs, to which in certain cases it gives rise are 
 relatively insignificant phenomena, useful supple- 
 ments to the purely physiological apparatus, neces- 
 sary, perhaps, to its highest developments, but still, 
 if operative at all,^ rather in the nature of final im- 
 provements to the machinery than of parts essential 
 to its working. 
 
 A like result would attend his study of the next 
 class of beliefs that might fall under his notice, 
 those, namely, which, though the}^ do not relate to 
 things or events within the field of perception, like 
 those we have just been considering, are yet not 
 less immediate in their character. Memories of the 
 past are examples of this type ; I should be in- 
 clined to add, though I do not propose here to 
 justify my opinion, certain instinctive and, so to 
 speak, automatic expectations about the future or 
 that part of the present which does not come with- 
 in the reach of direct experience. Like the beliefs 
 of perception of which we have been speaking, 
 they would seem to be the psychical side of neu- 
 ral changes which, at least in their simpler forms, 
 need be accompanied by no psychical manifestation. 
 
 ' See Note on Chapter V., page 312.
 
 200 CAUSES OF EXPERIENCE 
 
 Physiological co-ordination is sufficient by itself to 
 perform services for the lower animals similar in 
 kind to those which, in the case of man, are use- 
 fully, or even necessarily, supplemented by their 
 beliefs of memory and of expectation. 
 
 These two classes of belief, relating respectively 
 to the present and the absent, cover the whole 
 ground of what is commonly called experience, 
 and. something more. They include, therefore, at 
 least in rudimentary form, all particulars which, on 
 any theory, are required for scientific induction; 
 and, according to empiricism in its older forms, 
 they supply not this only, but also the whole of the 
 raw material, without any exception, out of which 
 reason must subsequently fashion whatever stock 
 of additional beliefs it is needful for mankind to 
 entertain. 
 
 Our Imaginary Observer, however, quite indif- 
 ferent to mundane theories as to what ought to 
 produce conviction, and intent only on discovering 
 how convictions are actually produced, would soon 
 find out that there were other influences besides 
 reasoning required to supplement the relatively 
 simple physiological and psychological causes 
 which originate the immediate beliefs of perception, 
 memory, and expectation. These immediate be- 
 liefs belong to man as an individual. They involve 
 no commerce between mind and mind. They might 
 equally exist, and would equally be necessary, if 
 each man stood face to face with material Nature
 
 CAUSES OF EXPERIENCE 201 
 
 in friendless isolation. But they neither provide, 
 nor by any merely logical extension can be made to 
 provide, the apparatus of beliefs which we find act- 
 ually connected with the higher scientific social and 
 spiritual life of the race. These also are, without 
 doubt, the product of antecedent causes — causes 
 many in number and most diverse in character. 
 They presuppose, to begin with, the beliefs of per- 
 ception, memory, and expectation in their element- 
 ary shape; and they also imply the existence of 
 an organism fitted for their hospitable reception 
 by ages of ancestral preparation. But these condi- 
 tions, though necessary, are clearly not enough ; 
 the appropriate environment has also to be pro- 
 vided. And though I shall not attempt to analyse 
 with the least approach to completeness the ele- 
 ments of which that environment consists, yet it 
 contains one group of causes so important in their 
 collective operation, and yet in popular discourse 
 so often misrepresented, that a detailed notice of it 
 seems desirable.
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 AUTHORITY AND REASON 
 
 This group is perhaps best described by the term 
 Authority, a word which by a sharp transition 
 transports us at once into a stormier tract of specu- 
 lation than we have been traversing in the last few 
 pages, though, as my readers may be disposed to 
 think, for that reason, perhaps, among others, a 
 tract more nearly adjacent to theology and the 
 proper subject-matter of these Notes, However 
 this may be, it is, I am afraid, the fact that the dis- 
 cussion on which I am about to enter must bring us 
 face to face with one problem, at least, of which, 
 so far as I am aware, no entirely satisfactory solu- 
 tion has yet been reached ; which certainly I can- 
 not pretend to solve; which can, therefore, for the 
 present only be treated in a manner provisional, 
 and therefore unsatisfactory. Nor are these peren- 
 nial and inherent difficulties the only obstacles we 
 have to contend with. For the subject is, unfort- 
 unately, one familiar to discussion, and, like all 
 topics which have been the occasion of passionate 
 debate, it is one where party watchwords have
 
 AUTHORITY AND REASON 203 
 
 exercised their perturbing and embittering influ- 
 ence. 
 
 It would be, perhaps, an exaggeration to assert 
 that the theor}' of authority has been for three cen- 
 turies the main battlefield whereon have met the 
 opposing forces of new thoughts and old. But if so, 
 it is only because, at this point at least, victory is 
 commonly supposed long ago to have declared itself 
 decisively in favour of the new. The very statement 
 that the rival and opponent of authority is reason ^ 
 seems to most persons equivalent to a declaration 
 that the latter must be in the right, and the former 
 in the wrong ; while popular discussion and specula- 
 tion have driven deep the general opinion that au- 
 thority serves no other purpose in the economy of 
 Nature than to supply a refuge for all that is most 
 bigoted and absurd. 
 
 The current theory by which these views are sup- 
 ported appears to be something of this kind. Every- 
 one has a ' right ' to adopt any opinions he pleases. 
 It is his ' duty,' before exercising this ' right,' criti- 
 cally to sift the reasons by which such opinions may 
 be supported, and so to adjust the degree of his con- 
 victions that they shall accurately correspond with 
 the evidences adduced in their favour. Authority, 
 therefore, has no place among the legitimate causes 
 of belief. If it appears among them, it is as an in- 
 
 ' It is, perhaps, hardly necessary to note that throughout this 
 chapter I use Reason in its ordinary and popular, not in its tran- 
 scendental, sense. There is no question here of the Logos or Ab- 
 solute Reason.
 
 204 AUTHORITY AND REASON 
 
 truder, to be jealously hunted down and mercilessly 
 expelled. Reason, and reason only, can be safely 
 permitted to mould the convictions of mankind. By 
 its inward counsels alone should beings who boast 
 that they are rational submit to be controlled. 
 
 Sentiments like these are among the common- 
 places of political and social philosophy. Yet, looked 
 at scientifically, they seem to me to be, not merely 
 erroneous, but absurd. Suppose for a moment a com- 
 munity of which each member should deliberately 
 set himself to the task of throwing off so far as pos- 
 sible all prejudices due to education ; where each 
 should consider it his duty critically to examine the 
 grounds whereon rest every positive enactment and 
 every moral precept which he has been accustomed 
 to obey ; to dissect all the great loyalties which make 
 social life possible, and all the minor conventions 
 which help to make it easy ; and to weigh out with 
 scrupulous precision the exact degree of assent 
 which in each particular case the results of this proc- 
 ess might seem to justify. To say that such a com- 
 munity, if it acted upon the opinions thus arrived 
 at, would stand but a poor chance in the struggle 
 for existence is to say far too little. It could never 
 even begin to be ; and if by a miracle it was created, 
 it would without doubt immediately resolve itself 
 into its constituent elements. 
 
 For consider by way of illustration the case of 
 Morality. If the right and the duty of private 
 judgment be universal, it must be both the privilege
 
 AUTHORITY AND REASON 20$ 
 
 and the business of every man to subject the maxims 
 of current morality to a critical examination ; and 
 unless the examination is to be a farce, every man 
 should bring to it a mind as little warped as pos- 
 sible by habit and education, or the unconscious bias 
 of foregone conclusions. Picture, then, the condi- 
 tion of a society in which the successive generations 
 would thus in turn devote their energies to an im- 
 partial criticism of the 'traditional' view. What 
 qualifications, natural or acquired, for such a task 
 we are to attribute to the members of this emanci- 
 pated community I know not. But let us put them 
 at the highest. Let us suppose that every man and 
 woman, or rather every boy and girl (for ought 
 Reason to be ousted from her rights in persons 
 under twenty-one years of age?), is endowed with 
 the aptitude and training required to deal with 
 problems like these. Arm them with the most re- 
 cent methods of criticism, and set them down to the 
 task of estimating with open minds the claims which 
 charity, temperance and honesty, murder, theft and 
 adultery respectively have upon the approval or 
 disapproval of mankind. What the result of such 
 an experiment would be, what wild chaos of opin- 
 ions would result from this fiat of the Uncreating 
 Word, 1 know not. But it might well happen that 
 even before our youthful critics got so far as a re- 
 arrangement of the Ten Commandments, they might 
 find themselves entangled in the preliminary ques- 
 tion whether judgments conveying moral approba-
 
 206 AUTHORITY AND REASON 
 
 tion and disapprobation were of a kind which rea- 
 sonable beings should be asked to entertain at all ; 
 whether ' right ' and ' wrong ' were words repre- 
 senting anything more permanent and important 
 than certain likes and dislikes which happen to be 
 rather widely disseminated, and more or less arbi- 
 trarily associated with social and legal sanctions. I 
 conceive it to be highly probable that the con- 
 clusions at which on this point they would arrive 
 would be of a purely negative character. The ethi- 
 cal systems competing for acceptance would by 
 their very numbers and variety suggest suspicions 
 as to their character and origin. Here, would our 
 students explain, is a clear presumption to be found 
 on the very face of these moralisings that they were 
 contrived, not in the interests of truth, but in the in- 
 terests of traditional dogma. How else explain the 
 fact, that while there is no great difference of opin- 
 ion as to what things are right or wrong, there is no 
 semblance of agreement as to why they are right 
 or why they are wrong. All authorities concur, for 
 instance, in holding that it is wrong to commit mur- 
 der. But one philosopher tells us that it is wrong 
 because it is inconsistent with the happiness of man- 
 kind, and that to do anything inconsistent with the 
 happiness of mankind is wrong. Another tells us 
 that it is contrary to the dictates of conscience, and 
 that everything which is contrary to the dictates of 
 conscience is wrong. A third tells us that it is 
 against the commandments of God, and that every-
 
 AUTHORITY AND REASON 20/ 
 
 thinsr which is ag-ainst the commandments of God is 
 wrong. A fourth tells me that it leads to the gal- 
 lows, and that, inasmuch as being hanged involves 
 a sensible diminution of personal happiness, creat- 
 ures who, like man, are by nature incapable of 
 doinof otherwise than seek to increase the sum of 
 their personal pleasures and diminish the sum of 
 their personal pains cannot, if they really compre- 
 hend the situation, do anything which may bring 
 their existence to so distressing a termination. 
 
 Now whence, it would be asked, this curious mixt- 
 ure of agreement and disagreement ? How account 
 for the strange variety exhibited in the premises of 
 these various systems, and the not less strange uni- 
 formity exhibited in their conclusions? Why does 
 not as great a divergence manifest itself in the 
 results arrived at as we undoubtedly find in the 
 methods employed ? How comes it that all these 
 explorers reach the same goal, when their points of 
 departure are so widely dispersed ? Plainly but one 
 plausible method of solving the difficulty exists. 
 The conclusions were in every case determined be- 
 fore the argument began, the goal was in every case 
 settled before the travellers set out. There is here 
 no surrender of belief to the inward guidance of un- 
 fettered reason. Rather is reason coerced to a fore- 
 ordained issue by the external operation of prejudice 
 and education, or by the rougher machinery of social 
 ostracism and legal penalty. The framcrs of ethical 
 systems are either philosopiiers who are unable to
 
 2o8 AUTHORITY AND REASON 
 
 free themselves from the unfelt bondage of custom- 
 ary opinion, or advocates who find it safer to exer- 
 cise their liberty of speculation in respect to pre- 
 mises about which nobody cares, than in respect to 
 conclusions which might bring them into conflict 
 with the police. 
 
 So might we imagine the members of our emanci- 
 pated community discussing the principles on which 
 morality is founded. But, in truth, it were a vain 
 task to try and work out in further detail the results 
 of an experiment which, human nature being what 
 it is, can never be seriously attempted. That it can 
 never be seriously attempted is not, be it observed, 
 because it is of so dangerous a character that the 
 community in its wisdom would refuse to embark 
 upon it. This would be a frail protection indeed. 
 Not the danger of the adventure, but its impossi- 
 bility, is our security. To reject all convictions 
 which are not the products of free speculative in- 
 vestigation is, fortunately, an exercise of which hu- 
 manity is in the strictest sense incapable. Some 
 societies and some individuals may show more incli- 
 nation to indulge in it than others. But in no con- 
 dition of society and in no individual will the incli- 
 nation be more than very partially satisfied. Always 
 and everywhere our Imaginary Observer, contem- 
 plating from some external coign of vantage the 
 course of human history, would note the immense, 
 the inevitable, and on the whole the beneficent, part 
 which Authority plays in the production of belief.
 
 AUTHORITY AND REASON 209 
 
 II 
 
 This truth finds expression, and at first sight we 
 might feel inclined to say recognition also, in such 
 familiar commonplaces as that every man is the 
 ' product of the society in which he lives,' and that 
 ' it is vain to expect him to rise much above the level 
 of his age.' But aphorisms like these, however use- 
 ful as aids to a correct historical perspective, do not, 
 as ordinarily employed, show any real apprehension 
 of the verity on which I desire to insist. They be- 
 long to a theory which regards these social influ- 
 ences as clogs and hindrances, hampering the free 
 movements of those who might under happier cir- 
 cumstances have struggled successfully towards the 
 truth ; or as perturbing forces which drive mankind 
 from the even orbit marked out for it by reason. 
 Reason, according to this view, is a kind of Ormuzd 
 doing constant battle against the Ahriman of tradi- 
 tion and authority. Its gradual triumph over the 
 opposing powers of darkness is what we mean by 
 Progress. Everything which shall hasten the hour 
 of that triumph is a gain ; and if by some magic 
 stroke we could extirpate, as it were in a moment, 
 every cause of belief which was not also a reason, 
 we should, it appears, be the fortunate authors of a 
 reform in the moral world only to be paralleled by 
 the abolition of pain and disease in the physical. 1 
 have already indicated some of the grounds which
 
 2IO AUTHORITY AND REASON 
 
 induce me to form a very different estimate of the 
 part which reason plays in human affairs. Our an- 
 cestors, whose errors we paUiate on account of their 
 environment with a feeling of satisfaction, due partly 
 to our keen appreciation of our own happier position 
 and greater breadth of view, were not to be pitied 
 because they reasoned little and believed much ; nor 
 should we necessarily have any particular cause for 
 self-g:ratulation if it were true that we reasoned 
 more and, it may be, believed less. Not thus has 
 the world been fashioned. But, nevertheless, this 
 identification of reason with all that is good among 
 the causes of belief, and authority with all that is 
 bad, is a delusion so gross and yet so prevalent that 
 a moment's examination into the exaggerations and 
 confusions which lie at the root of it may not be 
 thrown away. 
 
 The first of these confusions may be dismissed 
 almost in a sentence. It arises out of the tacit as- 
 sumption that reason means right reason. Such an 
 assumption, it need hardly be said, begs half the 
 point at issue. Reason, for purposes of this discus- 
 sion, can no more be made to mean right reason than 
 authority can be made to mean legitimate authority. 
 True, we might accept the first of these definitions, 
 and yet deny that all right belief was the fruit of 
 reason. But we could hardly deny the converse 
 proposition, that reason thus defined must always 
 issue in rig-ht belief. Nor need we be concerned to 
 deny a statement at once so obvious and so barren.
 
 AUTHORITY AND REASON 211 
 
 The source of error which has next to be noted 
 presents points of much greater interest. Though it 
 be true, as I am contending, that the importance of 
 reason among the causes which produce and main- 
 tain the behefs, customs, and ideals which form the 
 groundwork of Hfe has been much exaggerated, 
 there can yet be no doubt that reason is, or appears 
 to be, the cause over which we have the most direct 
 control, or rather the one which we most readily 
 identify with our own free and personal action. We 
 are acted on by authority. It moulds our ways of 
 thought in spite of ourselves, and usually unknown 
 to ourselves. But when we reason we are the au- 
 thors of the effect produced. We have ourselves 
 set the machine in motion. For its proper working 
 we are ourselves immediately responsible ; so that it 
 is both natural and desirable that we should concen- 
 trate our attention on this particular class of causes, 
 even though we should thus be led unduly to 
 magnify their importance in the general scheme of 
 things. 
 
 I have somewhere seen it stated that the steam- 
 engine in its primitive form required a boy to work 
 the valve by which steam was admitted to the 
 cylinder. It was his business at the proper period 
 of each stroke to perform this necessary operation 
 by pulling a string ; and though the same object 
 has long since been attained by mechanical methods 
 far simj)ler and more trustworthy, yet I have little 
 doubt that until the advent of that revolutionary
 
 212 AUTHORITY AND REASON 
 
 youth who so tied the string to one of the moving 
 parts of the engine that his personal supervision was 
 no longer necessary, the boy in office greatly magni- 
 fied his functions, and regarded himself with par- 
 donable pride as the most important, because the 
 only rational, link in the chain of causes and effects 
 by which the energy developed in the furnace was 
 ultimately converted into the motion of the fly- 
 wheel. So do we stand as reasoning beings in the 
 presence of the complex processes, physiological 
 and psychical, out of which are manufactured the 
 convictions necessary to the conduct of life. To the 
 results attained by their co-operation reason makes 
 its slender contribution ; but in order that it may do 
 so effectively, it is beneficently decreed that, pend- 
 ing the evolution of some better device, reason 
 should appear to the reasoner the most admirable 
 and important contrivance in the whole mechanism. 
 The manner in which attention and interest are 
 thus unduly directed towards the operations, vital 
 and social, which are under our direct control, 
 rather than those which we are unable to modify, or 
 can only modify by a very indirect and circuitous 
 procedure, may be illustrated by countless exam- 
 ples. Take one from physiology. Of all the com- 
 plex causes which co-operate for the healthy nour- 
 ishment of the body, no doubt the conscious choice 
 of the most wholesome rather than the less whole- 
 some forms of ordinary food is far from being the 
 most unimportant. Yet, as it is within our immedi-
 
 AUTHORITY AND REASON 213 
 
 ate competence, we attend to it, moralise about it. 
 and generally make much of it. But no man can by 
 taking thought directly regulate his digestive secre- 
 tions. We never, therefore, think of them at all 
 until they go wrong, and then, unfortunately, to 
 very little purpose. So it is with the body politic. 
 A certain proportion (probably a small one) of the 
 changes and adaptations required by altered sur- 
 roundings can only be effected through the solvent 
 action of criticism and discussion. How such dis- 
 cussion shall be conducted, what are the arguments 
 on either side, how a decision shall be arrived at, 
 and how it shall be carried out, are matters which 
 we seem able to regulate by conscious effort and the 
 deliberate adaptation of means to ends. We thei*e- 
 fore unduly magnify the part they play in the fur- 
 therance of our interests. We perceive that they 
 supply business to the practical politician, raw ma- 
 terial to the political theorist ; and we forget amid 
 the buzzing of debate the multitude of incom- 
 parably more important processes, by whose unde- 
 signed co-operation alone the life and growth of the 
 State is rendered possible. 
 
 Ill 
 
 There is, however, a third source of illusion, 
 which well deserves the attentive study of those 
 who, like our Imaginary Observer, are interested in 
 the purely external and scientific investigation of
 
 214 AUTHORITY AND REASON 
 
 the causes which produce belief. I have already in 
 this chapter made reference to the * spirit of the 
 age ' as one form in which authority most potently 
 manifests itself ; and undoubtedly it is so. Dog- 
 matic education in early years may do much.* The 
 immediate pressure of domestic, social, scientific, 
 ecclesiastical surroundings in the direction of spe- 
 cific beliefs may do even more. But the power of 
 authority is never more subtle and effective than 
 when it produces a psychological * atmosphere ' or 
 ' climate ' favourable to the life of certain modes of 
 belief, unfavourable, and even fatal, to the life of 
 others. Such 'climates ' may be widely diffused, or 
 the reverse. Their range may cover a generation, 
 an epoch, a whole civilisation, or it may be nar- 
 rowed down to a sect, a family, even an individual. 
 And as they may vary infinitely in respect to the 
 extent of their influence, so also they may vary in 
 respect to its intensity and quality. But whatever 
 be their limits and whatever their character, their 
 importance to the conduct of life, social and individ- 
 ual, cannot easily be overstated. 
 
 Consider, for instance, their effect on great 
 classes of belief with which reasoning, were it only 
 on account of their mass, is quite incompetent to 
 deal. If all credible propositions, all propositions 
 which somebody at some time had been able to be- 
 lieve, were only to be rejected after their claims had 
 
 ' I may again remind the reader that the word dogmatic as used 
 in these Notes has no special theological reference.
 
 AUTHORITY AND REASON 21 5 
 
 been impartially tested by a strictly loc^ical inves- 
 tigation, the intellectual machine would be over- 
 burdened, and its movements hopelessly choked by 
 mere excess of material. Even such products as it 
 could turn out would, as I conjecture (for the ex- 
 periment has never been tried), prove but a mot- 
 ley collection, so diverse in design, so incongruous 
 and ill-assorted, that they could scarcely contribute 
 the fitting furniture of a well-ordered mind. What 
 actually happens in the vast majority of cases is 
 something very different. To begin with, external 
 circumstances, mere conditions of time and place, 
 limit the number of opinions about which anything 
 is known, and on which, therefore, it is (so to speak) 
 materially possible that reason can be called upon 
 to pronounce a judgment. But there are internal 
 limitations not less universal and not less necessary. 
 Few indeed are the beliefs, even among those which 
 come under his observation, which any individual 
 for a moment thinks himself called upon seriously 
 to consider with a view to their possible adoption. 
 The residue he summarily disposes of, rejects with- 
 out a hearing, or, rather, treats as if they had not 
 even that privid facie claim to be adjudicated on 
 which formal rejection seems to imply. 
 
 Now, can this process be described as a rational 
 one ? That it is not the immediate result of reason- 
 ing is, 1 think, evident enough. All would admit, 
 for example, that when the mind is closed against 
 the reception of any truth by ' bigotry ' or * inveterate
 
 2l6 AUTHORITY AND REASON 
 
 prejudice,' the effectual cause of the victory of error 
 is not so much bad reasoning as something which, 
 in its essential nature, is not reasoning at all. But 
 there is really no ground for drawing a distinction 
 as regards their mode of operation between the 
 ' psychological climates ' which we happen to like and 
 those of which we happen to disapprove. However 
 various their character, all, I take it, work out their 
 results very much in the same kind of way. For 
 good or for evil, in ancient times and in modern, 
 among savage folk and among civilised, it is ever by 
 an identic process that they have sifted and selected 
 the candidates for credence, on which reason has 
 been afterwards called upon to pass judgment ; and 
 that process is one with which ratiocination has little 
 or nothing directly to do. 
 
 But though these ' psychological climates ' do not 
 work through reasoning, may they not themselves, 
 in many cases, be the products of reasoning? May 
 they not, therefore, be causes of belief which belong, 
 though it be only at the second remove, to the domain 
 of reason rather than that of authority ? To the first 
 of these questions the answer must doubtless be in 
 the affirmative. Reasoning has unquestionably a 
 great deal to do with the production of psychological 
 climates. As ' climates ' are among the causes which 
 produce beliefs, so are beliefs among the causes 
 which produce ' climates,' and all reasoning, therefore, 
 which culminates in belief may be, and indeed must 
 be, at least indirectly concerned in the effects which
 
 AUTHORITY AND REASON 21/ 
 
 belief develops. But are these results rational ? Do 
 they follow, I mean, on reason qua reason ; or are 
 they, like a schoolboy's tears over a proposition of 
 Euclid, consequences of reasoning, but not conclu- 
 sions from it ? 
 
 In order to answer this question it may be worth 
 while to consider it in the light of an example which 
 I have already used in another connection and under 
 a different aspect. It will be recollected that in a 
 preceding chapter I considered Rationalism, not as 
 a psychological climate, a well-characterised mood of 
 mind, but as an explicit principle of judgment, in 
 which the rationalising temper may for purposes of 
 argument find definite expression. To Rationalism 
 in the first of these senses — to Rationalism, in other 
 words, considered as a form of Authority — I now 
 revert ; taking it as an instance specially suited to 
 our purpose, not only because its meaning is well 
 understood, but because it is found at our own level 
 of intellectual development, and we can therefore 
 study its origin and character with a kind of insight 
 quite impossible when we are dealing with the 
 ' climates ' which govern in so singular a fashion the 
 beliefs of primitive races. These, too, may be, and .1 
 suppose are, to some extent, the products of reason- 
 ing. But the reasoning appears to us as arbitrary 
 as the resulting 'climates' are repugnant; and 
 though we can note and classify the facts, we can 
 hardly comprehend them with sympathetic under- 
 standing.
 
 2l8 AUTHORITY AND REASON 
 
 With Rationalism it is different. How the dis- 
 coveries of science, the growth of criticism, and the 
 diffusion of learning should have fostered the ration- 
 alising temper seems intelligible to all, because all, 
 in their different degrees, have been subject to these 
 very influences. Not everyone is a rationalist ; but 
 everyone, educated or uneducated, is prepared to 
 reject without further examination certain kinds of 
 statement which, before the rationalising era set in, 
 would have been accepted without difficulty by the 
 wisest among mankind. 
 
 Now this modern mood, whether in its qualified 
 or unqualified {i.e. naturalistic) form, is plainly no 
 mere product of non-rational conditions, as the enu- 
 meration I have just given of its most conspicuous 
 causes is sufficient to prove. Natural science and 
 historical criticism have not been built up without a 
 vast expenditure of reasoning, and (though for present 
 purposes this is immaterial) very good reasoning, 
 too. But are Ave on that account to say that the 
 results of the rationalising temper are the work of 
 reason ? Surely not. The rationalist rejects miracles ; 
 and if you force him to a discussion, he may no doubt 
 produce from the ample stores of past controversy 
 plenty of argument in support of his belief. But do 
 not therefore assume that his belief is the result of 
 his argument. The odds are strongly in favour of 
 argument and belief having both grown up undor 
 the fostering influence of his ' psychological climate.' 
 For observe that precisely in the way in which he
 
 AUTHORITY AND REASON 219 
 
 rejects miracles he also rejects witchcraft. Here 
 there has been no controversy worth mentioning. 
 The general belief in witchcraft has died a natural 
 death, and it has not been worth anybody's while to 
 devise arguments against it. Perhaps there are none. 
 But, whether there be or not, no logical axe was re- 
 quired to cut down a plant which had not the least 
 chance of flourishing in a mental atmosphere so rig- 
 orous and uncongenial as that of rationalism ; and 
 accordingly no logical axe has been provided. 
 
 The belief in mesmerism, however, supplies in 
 some ways a more instructive case than the belief 
 either in miracles or witchcraft. Like these, it 
 found in rationalism a hostile influence. But, unlike 
 these, it could call in almost at will the assistance 
 of what would now be regarded as ocular demon- 
 stration. For two generations, however, this was 
 found insufficient. For two generations the rational- 
 istic bias proved sufficiently strong to pervert the 
 judgment of the most distinguished observers, and 
 to incapacitate them from accepting what under 
 more favourable circumstances they would have 
 called the ' plain evidence of their senses.' So that 
 we are here presented with the curious spectacle of 
 an intellectual mood or temper, whose origin was 
 largely due to the growth of the experimental 
 sciences, making it impossible for those affected to 
 draw the simplest inference, even from the most 
 conclusive experiments. 
 
 This is an interesting case of the conflict be-
 
 220 AUTHORITY AND REASON 
 
 tween authority and reason, because it illustrates 
 the general truth for which I have been contending, 
 with an emphasis that would be impossible if we 
 took as our example some worn-out vesture of 
 thought, threadbare from use, and strange to eyes 
 accustomed to newer fashions. Rationalism, in its 
 turn, may be predestined to suffer a like decay ; 
 but in the meanwhile it forcibly exemplifies the 
 part played by authority in the formation of behefs. 
 If rationalism be regarded as a non-rational effect of 
 reason and a non-rational cause of belief, the same 
 admission will readily be made about all other in- 
 tellectual climates; and that rationalism should be 
 so regarded is now, I trust, plain to the reader. 
 The only results which reason can claim as hers 
 by an exclusive title are of the nature of logical 
 conclusions ; and rationalism is not a logical conclu- 
 sion, but an intellectual temper. The only instru- 
 ments which reason, as such, can employ are argu- 
 ments ; and rationalism is not an argument, but an 
 impulse towards belief, or disbelief. So that, 
 though rationalism, like other ' psychological cli- 
 mates,' is doubtless due, among other causes, to 
 reason, it is not on that account a rational product ; 
 and though in its turn it produces beliefs, it is not 
 on that account a rational cause.
 
 AUTHORITY AND REASON 221 
 
 IV 
 
 The most important source of error on this sub- 
 ject remains, however, to be dealt with ; and it 
 arises directly out of that jurisdiction which in 
 matters of belief we can hardly do otherwise than 
 recognise as belonging to Reason by a natural and 
 indefeasible title. No one finds (if my observations 
 in this matter are correct) any serious difficulty in 
 attributing the origin of other people's beliefs, es- 
 pecially if he disagree with them, to causes which 
 are not reasons. That interior assent should be 
 produced in countless cases by custom, education, 
 public opinion, the contagious convictions of coun- 
 trymen, family, party, or Church, seems natural, 
 and even obvious. That but a small number, at 
 least of the most important and fundamental beliefs, 
 are held by persons who could give reasons for 
 them, and that of this small number only an in- 
 considerable fraction are held in consequence of the 
 reasons by which they are nominally supported, 
 may perhaps be admitted with no very great diffi- 
 culty. But it is harder to recognise that this law 
 is not merely, on the whole, beneficial, but that with- 
 out it the business of the world could not possibly 
 be carried on; nor do we allow, without reluctance 
 and a sense of shortcoming, that in our own persons 
 we supply illustrations of its operation quite as strik- 
 ing as any presented to us by the rest of the world.
 
 222 AUTHORITY AND REASON 
 
 Now this reluctance is not the result of vanity, 
 nor of any fancied immunity from weaknesses com- 
 mon to the rest of mankind. It is, rather, a direct 
 consequence of the view we find ourselves com- 
 pelled to take of the essential character of reason 
 and of our relations to it. Looked at from the out- 
 side, as one among the complex conditions which 
 produce belief, reason appears relatively insignifi- 
 cant and ineffectual ; not only appears so, but vmst 
 be so, if human society is to be made possible. 
 Looked at from the inside, it claims by an inalien- 
 able title to be supreme. Measured by its results 
 it may be little ; measured by its rights it is every, 
 thing. There is no problem it may not investigate, 
 no belief which it may not assail, no principle which 
 it may not test. It cannot, even by its own volun- 
 tary act, deprive itself of universal jurisdiction, as, 
 according to a once fashionable theory, primitive 
 man, on entering the social state, contracted himself 
 out of his natural rights and liberties. On the con- 
 trary, though its claims may be ignored, they can- 
 not be repudiated ; and even those who shrink from 
 the criticism of dogma as a sin, would probably ad- 
 mit that they do so because it is an act forbidden 
 by those they are bound to obey ; do so, that is to 
 say, nominally at least, for a reason which, at any 
 moment, if it should think fit, reason itself may re- 
 verse. 
 
 Why, under these circumstances, we are moved 
 to regard ourselves as free intelligences, forming
 
 AUTHORITY AND REASON 223 
 
 our opinions solely in obedience to reason ; why we 
 come to regard reason itself, not only as the sole 
 legitimate source of belief — which, perhaps, it may 
 be — but the sole source of legitimate beliefs — which 
 it assuredly is not, must now, I hope, be tolerably 
 obvious, and needs not to be further emphasised. 
 It is more instructive for our present purpose to 
 consider for a moment certain consequences of this 
 antinomy between the equities of Reason and the 
 expediencies of Authority which rise into promi- 
 nence whenever, under the changing conditions of 
 society, the forces of the latter are being diverted 
 into new and unaccustomed channels. 
 
 It is true, no doubt, that the full extent and diffi- 
 culty of the problems involved have not commonly 
 been realised by the advocates either of authority 
 or reason, though each has usually had a sufficient 
 sense of the strength of the other's position to in- 
 duce him to borrow from it, even at the cost of 
 some little inconsistency. The supporter of author- 
 ity, for instance, may point out some of the more 
 obvious evils by which any decrease in its influence 
 is usually accompanied : the comminution of sects, 
 the divisions of opinion, the weakened powers of co- 
 operation, the increase of strife, the waste of power. 
 Yet, so far as I am aware, no nation, party, or 
 Church has ever courted controversial disaster by 
 admitting that, if its claims were impartially tried 
 at the bar of Reason, the verdict would go against 
 it. In the same way, those who have most clamor-
 
 224 AUTHORITY AND REASON 
 
 ously upheld the prerogatives of individual reason 
 have always been forced to recognise by their prac- 
 tice, if not by their theory, that the right of every 
 man to judge on every question for himself is like 
 the right of every man who possesses a balance at 
 his bankers to require its immediate payment in 
 sovereigns. The right may be undoubted ; but it 
 can only be safely enjoyed on condition that too 
 many persons do not take it into their heads to ex- 
 ercise it together. Perhaps, however, the most 
 striking evidence, both of the powers of authority 
 and the rights of reason, may be found in the fact 
 already alluded to, that beliefs which are really the 
 offspring of the first, when challenged, invariably 
 claim to trace their descent from the second, al- 
 though this improvised pedigree may be as imagi- 
 nary as if it were the work of a college of heralds. 
 To be sure, when this contrivance has served its 
 purpose it is usually laid silently aside, while the 
 belief it was intended to support remains quietly in 
 possession, until, in the course of time, some other, 
 and perhaps not less illusory, title has to be devised 
 to meet the pleas of a new claimant. 
 
 If the reader desires an illustration of this pro- 
 cedure, here is one taken at random from English 
 political history. Among the results of the move- 
 ment which culminated in the Great Rebellion was 
 of necessity a marked diminution in the universal- 
 ity and efficacy of that mixture of feelings and be- 
 liefs which, constitute loyalty to national govern-
 
 AUTHORITY AND REASON 22$ 
 
 ment. Now loyalty, in some shape or other, is 
 necessary for the stability of any form of polity. It 
 is one of the most valuable products of authority, 
 and, whether in any particular case conformable to 
 reason or not, is essentially unreasoning. Its theo- 
 retical basis therefore excites but little interest, and 
 is of very subordinate importance so long as it con- 
 trols the hearts of men with undisputed sway. But 
 as soon as its supremacy is challenged, men begin 
 to cast about anxiously for reasons why it should 
 continue to be obeyed. 
 
 Thus, to those who lived through the troubles 
 which preceded and accompanied the Great Rebel- 
 lion, it became suddenly apparent that it was above 
 all things necessary to bolster up by argument the 
 creed which authority had been found temporarily 
 insufficient to sustain ; and of the arguments thus 
 called into existence two, both of extraordinary ab- 
 surdity, have become historically famous — that con- 
 tained in Hobbes' ' Leviathan,' and that taught for a 
 period with much vigour by the Anglican clergy 
 under the name of Divine right. These theories 
 may have done their work ; in any case they had 
 their day. It was discovered that, as is the way of 
 abstract arguments dragged in to meet a concrete 
 difficulty, they led logically to a great many conclu- 
 sions much less convenient than the one in whose 
 defence they had been originally invoked. The 
 crisis which called them forth passed gradually 
 away. They were repugnant to the taste of a dif- 
 15
 
 226 AUTHORITY AND REASON 
 
 ferent age; 'Leviathan' and 'passive obedience' 
 were handed over to the judgment of the historian. 
 
 This is an example of how an ancient principle, 
 broadly based though it be on the needs and feel- 
 ings of human nature, may be thought now and 
 again to require external support to enable it to 
 meet some special stress of circumstances. But 
 often the stress is found to be brief ; a few internal 
 alterations meet all the necessities of the case; to a 
 new generation the added buttresses seem useless 
 and unsightly. They are soon demolished, to make 
 way in due time, no doubt, for others as temporary 
 as themselves. Nothing so quickly waxes old as 
 apologetics, unless perhaps, it be criticism. 
 
 A precisely analogous process commonly goes 
 on in the case of new principles struggling into rec- 
 ognition. As those of older growth are driven by 
 the instincts of self-preservation to call reasoning to 
 their assistance, so these claim the aid of the same 
 ally for purposes of attack and aggression ; and the 
 incongruity between the real causes by which these 
 new beliefs are sustained, and the official reasons by 
 which they are from time to time justified, is often 
 not less glaring in the one case than in the other. 
 Witness the ostentatious futility of the theories — 
 'rights of man,' and so forth — by the aid of which 
 the modern democratic movement was nursed 
 through its infant maladies. 
 
 Now these things are true, not alone in politics, 
 but in every field of human activity where authority
 
 AUTHORITY AND REASON 22/ 
 
 and reason co-operate to serve the needs of mankind 
 at large. And thus may we account for the singu- 
 lar fact that in many cases conclusions are more 
 permanent than premises, and that the successive 
 growths of apologetic and critical literature do often 
 not more seriously affect the enduring outline of 
 the beliefs by which they are occasioned than the 
 successive forests of beech and fir determine the 
 shape of the everlasting hills from which they 
 spring. 
 
 Here, perhaps, I might fitly conclude this por- 
 tion of my task, were it not that one particular mode 
 in which Authority endeavours to call in reasoning 
 to its assistance is so important in itself, and has led 
 to so much confusion both of thought and of lan- 
 guage, that a few paragraphs devoted to its consid- 
 eration may help the reader to a clearer understand- 
 ing of the general subject. Authority, as I have 
 been using the term, is in all cases contrasted with 
 Reason, and stands for that group of non-rational 
 causes, moral, social and educational, which pro- 
 duces its results by psychic processes other than 
 reasoning. But there is a simple operation, a mere 
 turn of phrase, by which many of these non-rational 
 causes can, so to speak, be converted into reasons 
 without seeming at first sight thereby to change 
 their function as channels of Authority ; and so con-
 
 228 AUTHORITY AND REASON 
 
 venient is this method of bringing these two sources 
 of conviction on to the same plane, so perfectly does 
 it minister to our instinctive desire to produce a 
 reason for every challenged belief, that it is con- 
 stantly resorted to, without apparently any clear 
 idea of its real import, both by those who regard 
 themselves as upholders and those who regard 
 themselves as opponents of Authority in matters of 
 opinion. To say that I believe a statement because 
 I have been taught it, or because my father believed 
 it before me, or because everybody in the village 
 believes it, is to announce what everyday experi- 
 ence informs us is a quite adequate catise of belief 
 — it is not, however, per se, to give a reason for be- 
 lief at all. But such statements can be turned at 
 once into reasons by no process more elaborate 
 than that of explicitly recognising that my teachers, 
 my family, or my neighbours, are truthful per- 
 sons, happy in the possession of adequate means of 
 information — propositions which in their turn, of 
 course, require argumentative support. Such a 
 procedure may, I need hardly say, be quite legiti- 
 mate ; and reasons of this kind are probably the 
 principal ground on which in mature life we ac- 
 cept the great mass of our subordinate scientific 
 and historical convictions. I believe, for instance, 
 that the moon falls in towards the earth with the 
 exact velocity required by the force of gravitation, 
 for no other reason than that I believe in the com- 
 petence and trustworthiness of the persons who
 
 AUTHORITY AND REASON 229 
 
 have made the necessary calculations and observa- 
 tions. In this case the reason for my belief and 
 the immediate cause of it are identical ; the cause, 
 indeed, is a cause only in virtue of its being first 
 a reason. But in the former case this is not so. 
 Mere early training, paternal authority, or public 
 opinion, were causes of belief before they were 
 reasons; they continued to act as non-rational 
 causes after they became reasons ; and it is not 
 improbable that to the very end they contributed 
 less to the resultant conviction in their capacity as 
 reasons than they did in their capacity as non- 
 rational causes. 
 
 Now the temptation thus to convert causes into 
 reasons seems under certain circumstances to be 
 almost irresistible, even when it is illegitimate. Au- 
 thority, as such, is from the nature of the case 
 dumb in the presence of argument. It is only by 
 reasoning that reasoning can be answered. It can 
 be, and has often been, thrust silently aside by that 
 instinctive feeling of repulsion which we call prej- 
 udice when w^e happen to disagree with it. But it 
 can only be replied to by its own kind. And so it 
 comes about that whenever any system of belief is . 
 seriously questioned, a method of defence which is 
 almost certain to find favour is to select one of the 
 causes by which the belief has been produced, and 
 forthwith to erect it into a reason why the system 
 should continue to be accepted. Authority, as I 
 have been using the term, is thus converted into
 
 230 AUTHORITY AND REASON 
 
 ' an authority,' or into ' authorities.' It ceases to 
 be the opposite or correlative of reason. It can 
 no longer be contrasted with reason. It becomes a 
 species of reason, and as a species of reason it must 
 be judged. 
 
 So judged, it appears to me that two things per- 
 tinent to the present discussion may be said of it. 
 In the first place, it is evidently an argument of im- 
 mense utility and of very wide application. As I 
 have just noted, it is the proximate reason for an 
 enormous^proportion of our beliefs as to matters of 
 fact, past and present, and for that very large body 
 of scientific knowledge which even experts in sci- 
 ence can have no opportunity of personally verify- 
 ing. But, in the second place, it seems not less 
 clear that the argument from ' an authority ' or ' au- 
 thorities ' is almost always useless as a foundation 
 for a system of belief. The deep -lying principles 
 which alone deserve this name may be, and fre- 
 quently are, the product of authority. But the at- 
 tempt to ground them dialectically upon an author- 
 ity can scarcely be attempted, except at the risk of 
 logical disaster. 
 
 Take as an example the general system of our 
 beliefs about the material universe. The greater 
 number of these are, as we have seen, quite legiti- 
 mately based upon the argument from ' authori- 
 ties ' ; and it is extremely probable that if any at- 
 tack like that contained in the Second Part of these 
 Notes be made upon the foundations of the system,
 
 AUTHORITY AND REASON 23 1 
 
 an endeavour will be made to extend to them also 
 the support of so useful an ally. The * universal ex- 
 perience,' or the ' general consent of mankind,' will 
 be adduced as an authoritative sanction of certain 
 fundamental presuppositions of physical science; 
 and of these, at least, it will be said, sccurus judical 
 orbis terraruvi. But a very little consideration is 
 sufficient to show that this procedure is illegitimate, 
 and that, as I have pointed out, we can neither 
 know that the verdict of mankind has been given, 
 nor, if it has, that anything can properly be in- 
 ferred from it, unless we first assume the truth of 
 the very principles which that verdict was invoked 
 to establish.' 
 
 The state of things is not materially different 
 in the case of ethics and theology. There also the 
 argument from 'an authority' or 'authorities' has 
 a legitimate and most important place ; there also 
 there is a constant inclination to extend the use of 
 the argument so as to cover the fundamental portions 
 of the system ; and there also this endeavour, when 
 made, seems predestined to end in a piece of circular 
 reasoning. I can hardly illustrate this statement 
 without mentioning dogma ; though, as the reader 
 will readily understand, I have not the slightest desire 
 to do anything so little relevant to the purposes of 
 this Introduction in order to argue either for or 
 against it. As to the reality of an infallible guide, 
 
 ' Cf. for a development of this statement, Philosophic Doubt, 
 chap. vii.
 
 232 AUTHORITY AND REASON 
 
 in whatever shape this has been accepted by various 
 sections of Christians, I have not a word to say. As 
 part of a creed it is quite outside the scope of my 
 inquiry. I have to do with it only if, and in so far 
 as, it is represented, not as part of the thing to be 
 believed, but as one of the fundamental reasons for 
 believing it ; and in that position I think it inad- 
 missible. 
 
 Merely as an illustration, then, let us consider for 
 a moment the particular case of Papal Infallibility, 
 an example which may be regarded with the greater 
 impartiality as I am not, I suppose, likely to have 
 among the readers of these Notes many by whom it 
 is accepted. If I rightly understand the teaching of 
 the Roman Catholic theologians upon this subject, 
 the following propositions, at least, must be accepted 
 before the doctrine of Infallibility can be regarded as 
 satisfactorily proved or adequately held :— (i) That 
 the words ' Thou art Peter, and upon this rock,' &c., 
 and, again, ' Feed my sheep,' were uttered by Christ ; 
 and that, being so uttered, were of Divine authorship, 
 and cannot fail. (2) That the meaning of these words 
 is— (^) that St. Peter was endowed with a primacy 
 of jurisdiction over the other Apostles; {b) that he 
 was to have a perpetual line of successors, similarly 
 endowed with a primacy of jurisdiction ; ic) that 
 these successors were to be Bishops of Rome ; {d) 
 that the primacy of jurisdiction carries with it the 
 certainty of Divine 'assistance ' ; (r) that though this 
 ' assistance ' does not ensure either the morality, or
 
 AUTHORITY AND REASON 233 
 
 the wisdom, or the general accuracy of the Pontiff 
 to whom it is given, it does ensure his absoUite 
 inerrancy whenever he shall, ex cathedra, define a 
 doctrine of faith or morals ; (/) that no pronounce- 
 ment can be regarded as ex cathedra unless it relates 
 to some matter already thoroughly sifted and con- 
 sidered by competent divines. 
 
 Now it is no part of my business to ask how the 
 six sub-heads contained in the second of these prop- 
 ositions can by any legitimate process of exegesis be 
 extracted from the texts mentioned in the first ; nor 
 how, if they be accepted to the full, they can obviate 
 the necessity for the complicated exercise of private 
 judgment required to determine whether any particu- 
 lar decision has or has not been made under the con- 
 ditions necessary to constitute it a pronouncement 
 ex cathedra. These are questions to be discussed 
 between Roman Catholic and non-Roman Catholic 
 controversialists, and with which I have nothing here 
 to do. My point is, that the first proposition alone 
 is so absolutely subversive of any purely naturalistic 
 view of the universe, involves so many fundamental 
 elements of Christianity {e.g. the supernatural char- 
 acter of Christ and the trustworthiness of the first 
 and fourth Gospels, with all that this carries with 
 it), that if it does not require the argument from an 
 infallible authority for its support, it seems hard to 
 understand where the necessity for that argument 
 can come in at any fundamental stage of apologetic 
 demonstration. And that this proposition does not
 
 234 AUTHORITY AND REASON 
 
 require infallible authority for its support seems 
 plain from the fact that it does itself supply the main 
 ground on which the existence of infallible authority 
 is believed. 
 
 This is not, and is not intended to be, an objec- 
 tion to the doctrine of Papal Infallibility ; it is not, 
 and is not intended to be, a criticism by means of 
 example directed against other doctrines involving 
 the existence of an unerring guide. But if the reader 
 will attentively consider the matter he will, I think, 
 see that whatever be the truth or the value of such 
 doctrines, they can never be used to supply any 
 fundamental support to the systems of which they 
 form a part without being open to a reply like that 
 which I have supposed in the case of Papal Infalli- 
 bility. Indeed, when we reflect upon the character 
 of the religious books and of the religious organisa- 
 tions through which Christianity has been built up; 
 when we consider the variety in date, in occasion, 
 in authorship, in context, in spiritual development, 
 which mark the first ; the stormy history and the in- 
 evitable division which mark the second ; when we, 
 further, reflect on the astonishing number of the 
 problems, linguistic, critical, metaphysical, and his- 
 torical which must be settled, at least in some pre- 
 liminary fashion, before either the books or the or- 
 ganisations can be supposed entitled by right of 
 rational proof to the position of infallible guides, we 
 can hardly suppose that we were intended to find in 
 these the logical foundations of our system of relig-
 
 AUTHORITY AND REASON 235 
 
 ioiis beliefs, however important be the part (and can 
 it be exaggerated ?) which they were destined to 
 play in producing, fostering, and directing it. 
 
 VI 
 
 Enough has now, perhaps, been said to indicate 
 the relative positions of Reason and Authority in the 
 production of belief. To Reason is largely due the 
 growth of new and the sifting of old knowledge ; 
 the ordering, and in part the discovery, of that vast 
 body of systematised conclusions which constitute 
 so large a portion of scientific, philosophical, ethical, 
 political, and theological learning. To Reason we 
 are in some measure beholden, though not, perhaps, 
 so much as we suppose, for hourly aid in managing 
 so much of the trifling portion of our personal af- 
 fairs entrusted to our care by Nature as we do not 
 happen to have already surrendered to the control 
 of habit. By Reason also is directed, or misdirect- 
 ed, the public policy of communities within the nar- 
 row limits of deviation permitted by accepted cus- 
 tom and tradition. Of its immense indirect conse- 
 quences, of the part it has played in the evolution 
 of human affairs by the disintegration of ancient 
 creeds, by the alteration of the external conditions 
 of human life, by the production of new moods of 
 thought, or, as I have termed them, psychological 
 climates, we can in this connection say nothing. 
 For these are no rational effects of reason ; the
 
 236 AUTHORITY AND REASON 
 
 causal nexus by which they are bound to reason has 
 no logical aspect; and if reason produces them, as 
 in part it certainly does, it is in a manner indistin- 
 guishable from that in which similar consequences 
 are blindly produced by the distribution of conti- 
 nent and ocean, the varying fertility of different re- 
 gions, and the other material surroundings by which 
 the destinies of the race are modified. 
 
 When we turn, however, from the conscious 
 work of Reason to that which is unconsciously per- 
 formed for us by Authority, a very different spec- 
 tacle arrests our attention. The effects of the first, 
 prominent as they are through the dignity of their 
 origin, are trifling compared with the all-pervading 
 influences which flow from the second. At every 
 moment of our lives, as individuals, as members of 
 a family, of a party, of a nation, of a Church, of a 
 universal brotherhood, the silent, continuous, unno- 
 ticed influence of Authority moulds our feelings, our 
 aspirations, and, what we are more immediately con- 
 cerned with, our beliefs. It is from Authority that 
 Reason itself draws its most important premises. It 
 is in unloosing or directing the forces of Authority 
 that its most important conclusions find their prin- 
 cipal function. And even in those cases where we 
 may most truly say that our beliefs are the rational 
 product of strictly intellectual processes, we have, 
 in all probability, only got to trace back the thread 
 of our inferences to its beginnings in order to per- 
 ceive that it finally loses itself in some general princi-
 
 AUTHORITY AND REASON 237 
 
 pie which, describe it as we may, is in fact due to no 
 more defensible origin than the influence of Au- 
 thority. 
 
 Nor is the comparative pettiness of the role thus 
 played by reasoning in human affairs a matter for 
 regret. Not merely because we are ignorant of the 
 data required for the solution, even of very simple 
 problems in organic and social life, are we called on 
 to acquiesce in an arrangement which, to be sure, 
 we have no power to disturb ; nor yet because these 
 data, did we possess them, are too complex to be 
 dealt with by any rational calculus we possess or are 
 ever likely to acquire ; but because, in addition to 
 these difficulties, reasoning is a force most apt to di- 
 vide and disintegrate ; and though division and dis- 
 integration may often be the necessary preliminaries 
 of social development, still more necessary are the 
 forces which bind and stiffen, without which there 
 would be no society to develop. 
 
 It is true, no doubt, that we can, without any 
 great expenditure of research, accumulate instances 
 in which Authority has perpetuated error and re- 
 tarded progress; for, unluckily, none of the influ- 
 ences. Reason least of all, by which the history of 
 the race has been moulded have been productive of 
 unmixed good. The springs at which we quench 
 our thirst are always turbid. Yet, if we arc to 
 judge with equity between these rival claimants, we 
 must not forget that it is Authority rather than 
 Reason to which, in the main, we owe, not religion
 
 238 AUTHORITY AND REASON 
 
 only, but ethics and politics ; that it is Authority 
 which supplies us with essential elements in the 
 premises of science ; that it is Authority rather than 
 Reason which lays deep the foundations of social 
 life ; that it is Authority rather than Reason which 
 cements its superstructure. And though it may 
 seem to savour of paradox, it is yet no exaggeration 
 to say, that if we would find the quality in which 
 we most notably excel the brute creation, we should 
 look for it, not so much in our faculty of convincing 
 and being convinced by the exercise of reasoning, as 
 in our capacity for influencing and being influenced 
 through the action of Authority.
 
 PART IV 
 
 SUGGESTIONS TOWARDS 
 A PROVISIONAL PHILOSOPHY
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 THE GROUNDWORK 
 
 We have now considered beliefs, or certain impor- 
 tant classes of them, under three aspects. We have 
 considered them from the point of view of their 
 practical necessity ; from that of their philosophic 
 proof; and from that of their scientific origin. In- 
 quiries relating to the same subject-matter more 
 distinct in their character it would be difficult to 
 conceive. It remains for us to consider whether it 
 is possible to extract from their combined results 
 any general view which may command at least a 
 provisional assent. 
 
 It is evident, of course, that this general view, if 
 we are fortunate enough to reach it, will not be of 
 the nature of a complete or adequate philosophy. 
 The unification of all belief into an ordered whole, 
 compacted into one coherent structure under the 
 stress of reason, is an ideal which we can never 
 abandon ; but it is also one which, in the present 
 condition of our knowledge, perhaps even of our 
 
 faculties, we seem incapable of attaining. For the 
 i6
 
 242 THE GROUNDWORK 
 
 moment we must content ourselves with something 
 less than this. The best system we can hope to 
 construct will suffer from gaps and rents, from loose 
 ends and ragged edges. It does not, however, fol- 
 low from this that it will be without a high degree 
 of value ; and, whether valuable or worthless, it may 
 at least represent the best within our reach. 
 
 By the best I, of course, mean best in relation to 
 reflective reason. If we have to submit, as I think 
 we must, to an incomplete rationalisation of belief, 
 this ought not to be because in a lit of intellectual 
 despair we are driven to treat reason as an illusion ; 
 nor yet because we have deliberately resolved to 
 transfer our allegiance to irrational or non-rational 
 inclination ; but because reason itself assures us that 
 such a course is, at the lowest, the least irrational 
 one open to us. If we have to find our way over 
 difficult seas and under murky skies without com- 
 pass or chronometer, we need not on that account 
 allow the ship to drive at random. Rather ought 
 we to weigh with the more anxious care every in- 
 dication, be it negative or positive, and from what- 
 ever quarter it may come, which can help us to 
 guess at our position and to lay out the course 
 which it behoves us to steer. 
 
 Now, the first and most elementary principle 
 which ought to guide us in framing any provisional 
 scheme of unification, is to decline to draw any dis- 
 tinction between different classes of belief where no 
 relevant distinction can as a matter of fact be dis-
 
 THE GROUNDWORK 243 
 
 covered. To pursue the opposite course would be 
 gratuitously to irrationalise (to coin a convenient 
 word) our scheme from the very start ; to destroy, 
 by a quite arbitrary treatment, any hope of its 
 symmetrical and healthy development. And yet, if 
 there be any value in the criticisms contained in the 
 Second Part of these Notes, this is precisely the 
 mistake into which the advocates of naturalism have 
 invariably blundered. Without any preliminary 
 analysis, nay, without any apparent suspicion that 
 a preliminary analysis was necessary or desirable, 
 they have chosen to assume that scientific beliefs 
 stand not only upon a different, but upon a much 
 more solid, platform than any others ; that scientific 
 standards supply the sole test of truth, and scientific 
 methods the sole instruments of discovery. 
 
 I will not repeat the arguments which have led 
 me to the conviction that such pretensions have no 
 foundation in reason. The reader is already in pos- 
 session of some of the arguments which are, as it 
 seems to me, fatal to such claims, and it is not nec- 
 essary here to repeat them. What is more to our 
 present purpose is to find out whether, in the ab- 
 sence of philosophic proof, judgments about the 
 phenomenal, and more particularly about the ma- 
 terial, world possess any other characteristics which, 
 in our attempt at a provisional unification of knowl- 
 edge, forbid us to place them on a level with other 
 classes of belief. That there arc differences of some 
 sort no one, I imagine, will attempt to deny. But
 
 244 THE GROUNDWORK 
 
 are they of a kind which require us either to give 
 any special precedence to science, or to exclude 
 other beliefs altogether from our general scheme ? 
 
 One peculiarity there is which seems at first 
 sight effectually to distinguish certain scientific be- 
 liefs from any which belong, say, to ethics or the- 
 ology ; a peculiarity which may, perhaps, be best 
 expressed by the word ' inevitableness.' Every- 
 body has, and everybody is obliged to have, some 
 convictions about the world in which he lives — con- 
 victions which in their narrow and particular form 
 (as what I have before called beliefs of perception, 
 memory, and expectation) guide us all, children, 
 savages, and philosophers alike, in the ordinary 
 conduct of day-to-day existence ; which, when gen- 
 eralised and extended, supply us with some of the 
 leading presuppositions on which the whole fabric 
 of science appears logically to depend. No convic- 
 tions quite answering to this description can, I think, 
 be found either in ethics, ^esthetics, or theology. 
 Some kind of morality is, no doubt, required for the 
 stability even of the rudest form of social life. Some 
 sense of beauty, some kind of religion, is, perhaps, 
 to be discovered (though this is disputed) in every 
 human community. But certainly there is noth- 
 ing in either of these great departments of thought 
 quite corresponding to our habitual judgments 
 about the things we see and handle ; judgments 
 which, with reason or without it, all mankind are 
 practically compelled to entertain.
 
 THE GROUNDWORK 245 
 
 Compare, for example, the central truth of theol- 
 ogy — 'There is a God' — with one of the funda- 
 mental presuppositions of science (itself a general- 
 ised statement of what is given in ordinary judg- 
 ments of perception) — ' There is an independent 
 material world.' I am myself disposed to doubt 
 whether so good a case can be made out for accept- 
 ing the second of these propositions as can be made 
 out for accepting the first. But while it has been 
 found by many, not only possible, but easy, to doubt 
 the existence of God, doubts as to the independent 
 existence of matter have assuredly been confined to 
 the rarest moments of subjective reflection, and 
 have dissolved like summer mists at the first touch 
 of what we are pleased to call reality. 
 
 Now, what are we to make of this fact ? In the 
 opinion of many persons, perhaps of most, it affords 
 a conclusive ground for elevating science to a dif- 
 ferent plane of certitude from that on which other 
 systems of belief must be content to dwell. The 
 evidence of the senses, as we loosely describe these 
 judgments of perception, is for such person the best 
 of all evidence : it is inevitable, so it is true ; seeing, 
 as the proverb has it, is indeed believing. This 
 somewhat crude view, however, is not one which 
 we can accept. The coercion exercised in the pro- 
 duction of these beliefs is not, as has been already 
 shown, a rational coercion. Even while we submit 
 to it we may judge it ; and in the very act of be- 
 lieving we may be conscious that the strength of
 
 246 THE GROUNDWORK 
 
 our belief is far in excess of anything which mere 
 reasoning can justify. 
 
 I am making no complaint of this disparity be- 
 tween belief and its reasons. On the contrary, I 
 have already noted my dissent from the popular 
 view that it is our business to take care that, as far 
 as possible, these two shall in every case be nicely 
 adjusted. It cannot, I contend, be our duty to do 
 that in the name of reason which, if it were done, 
 would bring any kind of rational life to an immedi- 
 ate standstill. And even if we could suppose it to 
 be our duty, it is not one which, as was shown in 
 the last chapter, we are practically competent to 
 perform. If this be true in the case of those be- 
 liefs which owe their origin largely to Authority, 
 or the non-rational action of mind on mind, not less 
 is it true in the case of those elementary judgments 
 which arise out of sense - stimulation. Whether 
 there be an independent material universe or not 
 may be open to philosophic doubt. But that, if it 
 exists, it is expedient that the belief in it should be 
 accepted with a credence which for all practical 
 purposes is immediate and unwavering, admits, I 
 think, of no doubt whatever. If we could suppose 
 a community to be called into being who, in their 
 dealings with the ' external world,' should permit 
 action to wait upon speculation, and require all its 
 metaphysical difficulties to be solved before repos- 
 ing full belief in some such material surroundings 
 as those which we habitually postulate, its members
 
 THE GROUNDWORK 24/ 
 
 would be overwhelmed by a ruin more rapid and 
 more complete than that which, in a preceding 
 chapter, was prophesied for those who should suc- 
 ceed in ousting authority from its natural position 
 among the causes of belief. 
 
 But supposing this be so, it follows necessaril}', 
 on accepted biological principles,^ that a kind of 
 credulity so essential to the welfare, not merely of 
 the race as a whole, but of every single member 
 of it, will be bred by elimination and selection into 
 its inmost organisation. If we consider what must 
 have happened at that critical moment in the history 
 of organic development, when first conscious judg- 
 ments of sense-perception made themselves felt as 
 important links in the chain connecting nervous 
 irritability with muscular action, is it not plain that 
 any individual in whom such judgments were ha- 
 bitually qualified and enfeebled by even the most 
 legitimate scepticism would incontinently perish, 
 and that those only would survive who possessed, 
 and could presumably transmit to their descend- 
 ants, a stubborn assurance which was beyond the 
 power of reasoning either to fortify or to under- 
 mine? 
 
 No such process would come to the assistance ot 
 
 ' At the first glance, the reader may be disposed to think that to 
 bring in science to show why no peculiar certainty should attach to 
 scientific premises is logically inadmissible. But this is not so: 
 though the converse procedure, by which scientific conclusions 
 would be made to establish scientific premises, would, no doubt, 
 involve an argument in a circle.
 
 248 THE GROUNDWORK 
 
 other faiths, however true, which were the growth 
 of higher and later stages of civilised development. 
 For, in the first place, such faiths are not necessa- 
 rily, nor perhaps at all, an advantage in the struggle 
 for existence. In the second place, even where they 
 are an advantage, it is rather to the community as a 
 whole in its struggles with other communities, than 
 to each particular individual in his struggle with 
 other individuals, or with the inanimate forces of 
 Nature. In the third place, the whole machinery of 
 selection and elimination has been weakened, if not 
 paralysed, by civilisation itself. And, in the fourth 
 place, were it still in full operation, it could not, 
 through the mere absence of time and opportunity, 
 have produced any sensible effect in moulding the 
 organism for the reception of beliefs which, by 
 hypothesis, are the recent acquisition of a small and 
 advanced minority. 
 
 II 
 
 We are now in a position to answer the question 
 put a few pages back. What, I then asked, if any, 
 is the import, from our present point of view, of the 
 universality and inevitableness which unquestion- 
 ably attach to certain judgments about the world of 
 phenomena, and to these judgments alone? The 
 answer must be, that these peculiarities have no 
 import. They exist, but they are irrelevant. Faith 
 or assurance, which, if not in excess of reason, is at
 
 THE GROUNDWORK 249 
 
 least independent of it, seems to be a necessity in 
 every great department of knowledge which touches 
 on action ; and what great department is there 
 which does not? The analysis of sense-experience 
 teaches us that we require it in our ordinary deal- 
 ings with the material world. The most cursory 
 examination into the springs of moral action shows 
 that it is an indispensable supplement to ethical 
 speculation. Theologians are for the most part 
 agreed that without it religion is but the ineffectual 
 profession of a barren creed. The comparative 
 value, however, of these faiths is not to be measured 
 either by their intensity or by the degree of their 
 diffusion. It is true that all men, whatever their 
 speculative opinions, enjoy a practical assurance 
 with regard to what they see and touch. It is also 
 true that few men have an assurance equally strong 
 about matters of which their senses tell them noth- 
 ing immediately; and that many men have on such 
 subjects no assurance at all. But as this is precisely 
 what we should expect if, in the progress of evolu- 
 tion, the need for other faiths has arisen under con- 
 ditions very different from those which produced 
 (Hir innate and long-descended confidence in sense- 
 perception, how can we regard it as a distinction in 
 favour of the latter? We can scarcely reckon uni- 
 versality and necessity as badges of pre-eminence, 
 at the same moment that we recognise them as 
 marks of the elementary and primitive character oi 
 the beliefs to which they give their all-powerful, but
 
 250 THE GROUNDWORK 
 
 none the less irrational, sanction. The time has 
 passed for believing that the further we go back 
 towards the * state of nature,' the nearer we get to 
 Virtue and to Truth. 
 
 We cannot, then, extract out of the coercive 
 character of certain unreasoned beliefs any principle 
 of classification which shall help us to the provi- 
 sional philosophy of which we are in search. What 
 such a principle would require us to include in our 
 system of behefs contents us not. What it would 
 require us to exclude we may not willingly part 
 with. And if, dissatisfied with this double defici- 
 ency, we examine more closely into its character 
 and origin, we find, not only that it is without 
 rational justiiication — of which at this stage of our 
 inquiry we have no right to complain — but that the 
 very account which it gives of itself precludes us 
 from finding in it even a temporary place of intel- 
 lectual repose. 
 
 I do not, be it observed, make it a matter of 
 complaint that those who erect the inevitable judg- 
 ments of sense-perception into a norm or standard 
 of right belief have thereby substituted (however 
 unconsciously) psychological compulsion for ra- 
 tional necessity ; for, as rational necessity does not, 
 so far as I can see, carry us at the best beyond a 
 system of mere ' solipsism,' it must, somehow or 
 other, be supplemented if we are to force an en- 
 trance into any larger and worthier inheritance. 
 My complaint rather is, that having asked us to
 
 THE GROUNDWORK 25 I 
 
 acquiesce in the guidance of non-rational impulse, 
 they should then require us arbitrarily to narrow 
 down the impulses which we may follow to the 
 almost animal instincts lying at the root of our 
 judgments about material phenomena. It is surely 
 better — less repugnant, I mean, to reflective reason 
 — to frame for ourselves some wider scheme which, 
 though it be founded in the last resort upon our 
 needs, shall at least take account of other needs than 
 those we share with our brute progenitors. 
 
 And here, if not elsewhere, I may claim the sup- 
 port of the most famous masters of speculation. 
 Though they have not, it may be, succeeded in sup- 
 plying us with a satisfactory explanation of the Uni- 
 verse, at least the Universe which they have sought 
 to explain has been something more than a mere 
 collection of hypostatised sense-perceptions, packed 
 side by side in space, and following each other with 
 blind uniformity in time. All the great architects 
 of systems have striven to provide accommodation 
 within their schemes for ideas of wider sweep and 
 richer content ; and whether they desired to support, 
 to modify, or to oppose the popular theolog}' of 
 their day, they have at least given hospitable wel- 
 come to some of its most important conceptions. 
 
 In the case of such men as Leibnitz, Kant, Hegel, 
 this is obvious enough. It is true, I think, even in 
 such a case as that of Spinoza. Philosophers, in- 
 deed, may find but small satisfaction in his methods 
 or conclusions. They may see but little to admire
 
 252 THE GROUNDWORK 
 
 in his elaborate but illusory show of quasi-mathe- 
 matical demonstration ; in the Nature which is so 
 unlike the Nature of the physicist that we feel no 
 surprise at its being also called God ; in the God 
 Who is so unlike the God of the theologian that we 
 feel no surprise at His also being called Nature ; in 
 the «/r/crz metaphysic which evolves the universe 
 from definitions; in the freedom which is indistin- 
 guishable from necessity ; in the volition which is 
 indistinguishable from intellect; in the love which 
 is indistinguishable from reasoned acquiescence ; 
 in the universe from which have been expelled pur- 
 pose, morality, beauty, and causation, and which 
 contains, therefore, but scant room for theology, 
 ethics, aesthetics, and science. In the two hundred 
 years and more which have elapsed since the pub- 
 lication of his system, it may be doubted whether 
 two hundred persons have been convinced by his 
 reasoning. Yet he continues to interest the world ; 
 and why ? Not, surely, as a guide through the mazes 
 of metaphysics. Not as a pioneer of ' higher ' criti- 
 cism. Least of all because he was anything so com- 
 monplace as a heretic or an atheist. The true rea- 
 son appears to me to be very different. It is partly, 
 at least, because in despite of his positive teaching 
 he was endowed with a religious imagination which, 
 in however abstract and metaphysical a fashion, 
 illumined the whole profitless bulk of inconclusive 
 demonstration; which enabled him to find in notions 
 most remote from sense-experience the only abiding
 
 THE GROUNDWORK 253 
 
 realities ; and to convert a purely rational adhesion 
 to the conclusions supposed to flow from the nature 
 of an inactive, impersonal, and unmoral substance, 
 into something not quite Inaptly termed the Love 
 of God. 
 
 It will, perhaps, be objected that we have no 
 right to claim support from the example of system- 
 makers with whose systems we do not happen to 
 agree. How, it may be asked, can it concern us that 
 Spinoza extracted something like a religion out of 
 his philosophy, if we do not accept his philosophy? 
 Or that Hegel found it impossible to hitch large frag- 
 ments of Christian dogma into the development of 
 the ' Idea,' if we are not convinced by his dialectic? 
 It concerns us, I reply, inasmuch as facts like these 
 furnish fresh confirmation of a truth reached before 
 by another method. The naturalistic creed, which 
 merely systematises and expands the ordinary judg- 
 ments of sense-perception, we found by direct ex- 
 amination to be quite inadequate. We now note 
 that its inadequacy has been commonly assumed by 
 men whose speculative genius is admitted, who have 
 seldom been content to allow that the world of 
 which they had to give an account could be nar- 
 rowed down to the naturalistic pattern.
 
 2 54 THE GROUNDWORK 
 
 III 
 
 But a more serious objection to the point of view 
 here adopted remains to be considered. Is not, it 
 will be asked, the whole method followed through- 
 out the course of these Notes intrinsically unsound ? 
 Is it not substantially identical with the attempt, 
 not made now for the first time, to rest superstition 
 upon scepticism, and to frame our creed, not in 
 accordance with the rules of logic, but with the 
 promptings of desire? It begins (may it not be 
 said ?) by discrediting reason ; and having thus 
 guaranteed its results against inconvenient criti- 
 cism,, it proceeds to make the needs of man the 
 measure of ' objective ' reality, to erect his conve- 
 nience into the touchstone of Eternal Truth, and to 
 mete out the Universe on a plan authenticated only 
 by his wishes. 
 
 Now, on this criticism I have, in the first place, 
 to observe that it errs in assuming, either that the 
 object aimed at in the preceding discussion is to 
 discredit reason, or that as a matter of fact this has 
 been its effect. On the contrary, be the character 
 of our conclusions what it may, they have at least 
 been arrived at by allowing the fullest play to free, 
 rational investigation. If one consequence of this 
 investigation has been to diminish the importance 
 commonly attributed to reason among the causes 
 by which belief is produced, it is by the action of
 
 THE GROUNDWORK 255 
 
 reason itself that this result has been brought about. 
 If another consequence has been that doubts have 
 been expressed as to the theoretic validity of certain 
 universally accepted beliefs, this is because the right 
 of reason to deal with every province of knowledge, 
 untrammelled by arbitrary restrictions or customary 
 immunities, has been assumed and acted upon. If, 
 in addition to all this, we have been incidentally 
 compelled to admit that as yet we are without a sat- 
 isfactory philosophy, the admission has not been 
 asked for in the interests either of scepticism or of 
 superstition. Reason is not honoured by pretend- 
 ing that she has done what as a matter of fact is still 
 undone; nor need we be driven into a universal 
 license of credulity by recognising that we must for 
 the present put up with some working hypothesis 
 which falls far short of speculative perfection. 
 
 But, further, is it true to say that, in the absence 
 of reason, we have contentedly accepted mere desire 
 for our guide? No doubt the theory here advocated 
 requires us to take account, not mei-ely of premises 
 and their conclusions, but of needs and their satis- 
 faction. But this is only asking us to do explicitly 
 and on system what on the naturalistic theory is 
 done unconsciously and at random. By the very 
 constitution of our being we seem practically driven 
 to assume a real world in correspondence with our 
 ordinary judgments of perception. A harmony of 
 some kind between our inner selves and the universe 
 of which we f(;rm a part is thus the tacit postulate
 
 2S6 THE GROUNDWORK 
 
 at the root of every belief we entertain about * phe- 
 nomena ' ; and all that I now contend for is, that a 
 like harmony should provisionally be assumed be- 
 tween that universe and other elements in our nat- 
 ure which are of a later, of a more uncertain, but of 
 no ignobler, growth. 
 
 Whether this correspondence is best described 
 as that which obtains between a ' need ' and its ' sat- 
 isfaction,' may be open to question. But, at all 
 events, let it be understood that if the relation so 
 described is, on the one side, something different 
 from that between a premise and its conclusion, so, 
 on the other, it is intended to be equally remote from 
 that between a desire and its fulfilment. That it has 
 not the logical validity of the first I have already 
 admitted, or rather asserted. That it has not the 
 casual, wavering, and purely 'subjective ' character 
 of the second is not less true. For the correspond- 
 ence postulated is not between the fleeting fancies 
 of the individual and the immutable verities of an 
 unseen world, but between these characteristics of 
 our nature, which we recognise as that in us which, 
 though not necessarily the strongest, is the highest ; 
 which, though not always the most universal, is 
 nevertheless the best. 
 
 But because this theory may seem alike remote 
 from familiar forms both of dogmatism and scepti- 
 cism, and because I am on that account the more 
 anxious that no unmerited plausibility should be at- 
 tributed to it through any obscurity in my way of
 
 THE GROUNDWORK 257 
 
 presenting it, let me draw out, even at the cost of 
 some repetition, a brief catalogue of certain things 
 which may, and of certain other things which may 
 not, be legitimately said concerning it. 
 
 We may say of it, then, that it furnishes us Avith 
 no adequate philosophy of religion. But we may 
 not say of it that it leaves religion worse, or, indeed, 
 otherwise provided for in this respect than science. 
 
 We may say of it that it assumes without proof 
 a certain consonance between the ' subjective ' and 
 the ' objective ' ; between what we are moved to 
 believe and what in fact is. We may not say that 
 the presuppositions of science depend upon any 
 more solid, or, indeed, upon any different, founda- 
 tion. 
 
 We may say of it, if we please, that it gives us a 
 practical, but not a theoretic, assurance of the 
 truths with which it is concerned. But, if so, we 
 must describe in the same technical language our 
 assurance respecting the truths of the material 
 world. 
 
 We may say of it that it accepts provisionally 
 the theory, based on scientific methods, which 
 traces back the origin of all beliefs to causes which, 
 for the most part, are non-rational, and which carry 
 with them no warranty that they will issue in right 
 opinion. But we may not say of it that the distinc- 
 tion thus drawn between the non-rational causes 
 whicii jjroducc the immediate judgments of sense- 
 perception, and those which produce judgments in 
 '7
 
 258 THE GROUNDWORK 
 
 the sphere of ethics or theology, imply any superior 
 certitude in the case of the former. 
 
 We may say of it that it admits judgments of 
 sense-perception to be the most inevitable, but denies 
 them to be the most worthy. 
 
 We may say of it generally, that as it assumes 
 the Whole, of which we desire a reasoned knowl- 
 edge, to include human consciousness as an element, 
 it refuses to regard any system which, like Natural- 
 ism, leaves large tracts and aspects of that con- 
 sciousness unaccounted for and derelict as other 
 than, to that extent, at least, irrational ; and that it 
 utterly declines to circumscribe the Knowable by 
 frontiers whose delimitation Reason itself assures 
 us can be justified on no rational principle whatso- 
 ever.
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 BELIEFS AND FORMULAS 
 
 After these hints towards the formation of a pro- 
 visional philosophy, it may perhaps be convenient, 
 before proceeding to say what remains to be said on 
 the character of the behefs for which it may provide 
 a foundation, to interpolate some observations on the 
 formal side of their historical development, which 
 will not only serve, I hope, to make clearer the 
 general scheme here advocated, but may help 
 to solve certain difficulties which have sometimes 
 been felt in the interpretation of theological and ec- 
 clesiastical history. 
 
 Assuming, as we do, that Knowledge exists, we 
 can hardly do otherwise than make the further as- 
 sumption that it has grown and must yet further 
 grow. In what manner, then, has that growth been 
 accomplished ? What are the external signs of its 
 successive stages, the marks of its gradual evolution? 
 One, at least, must strike all who have surveyed, 
 even with a careless eye, the course of human specu- 
 lation — I mean the recurring ])rocess by which the 
 explanations or exj)lanalory lormulas in terms of
 
 26o BELIEFS AND FORMULAS 
 
 which mankind endeavour to comprehend the uni- 
 verse are formed, are shattered, and then in some 
 new shape are formed again. It is not, as we some- 
 times represent it, by the steady addition of tier to 
 tier that the fabric of knowledge uprises from its 
 foundation. It is not by mere accumulation of 
 material, nor even by a plant-like development, that 
 our beliefs grow less inadequate to the truths which 
 they strive to represent. Rather are we like one 
 who is perpetually engaged in altering some ancient 
 dwelling in order to satisfy new-born needs. The 
 ground-plan of it is being perpetually modified. We 
 build here ; we pull down there. One part is kept 
 in repair, another part is suffered to decay. And 
 even those portions of the structure which may in 
 themselves appear quite unchanged, stand in such 
 new relations to the rest, and are put to such differ- 
 ent uses, that they would scarce be recognised by 
 their original designer. 
 
 Yet even this metaphor is inadequate, and per- 
 haps misleading. We shall more accurately conceive 
 the true history of knowledge if we represent it under 
 the similitude of a plastic body whose shape and size 
 are in constant process of alteration through the 
 operation both of external and of internal forces. The 
 internal forces are those of reason. The external 
 forces correspond to those non-rational causes on 
 whose importance I have already dwelt. Each of 
 these agencies may be supposed to act both by way 
 of destruction and ol addition. B}^ their joint oper-
 
 BELIEFS AND FORMULAS 26 1 
 
 ation new material is deposited at one point, old 
 material is eroded at another ; and the whole mass, 
 whose balance has been thus disturbed, is constantly 
 changing its configuration and settling towards a 
 new position of equilibrium, which it may approach, 
 but can never quite attain. 
 
 We must not, however, regard this body of be- 
 liefs as being equally mobile in all its parts. Certain 
 elements in it have the power of conferring on the 
 whole something in the nature of a definite struct- 
 ure. These are known as ' theories,' ' hypotheses,' 
 ' generalisations,' and ' explanatory formulas ' in gen- 
 eral. They represent beliefs by which other beliefs 
 are co-ordinated. They supply the framework in 
 which the rest of knowledge is arranged. Their 
 right construction is the noblest work of reason ; and 
 without their aid reason, if it could be exercised at 
 all, would itself be driven from particular to particu- 
 lar in helpless bewilderment. 
 
 Now the action and reaction between these for- 
 mulas and their contents is the most salient, and in 
 some respects the most interesting, fact in the his- 
 tory of thought. Called into being, for the most part, 
 to justify, or at least to organise, pre-existing beliefs, 
 they can seldom perform their office without modi- 
 fying part, at least, of their material. While they 
 give precision to what would otherwise be indetei*- 
 minate, and a relative permanence to what would oth- 
 erwise be in a state of flux, they do so at the cost of 
 some occasional violence to the beliefs with which
 
 262 BELIEFS AND FORMULAS 
 
 they deal. Some of these are distorted to make 
 them fit into their predestined niche. Others, more 
 refractory, are destroyed or ignored. Even in sci- 
 ence, where the beliefs that have to be accounted for 
 have often a native vigour born of the imperious 
 needs of sense-perception, we are sometimes dis- 
 posed to see, not so much what is visible, as what 
 theory informs us ought to be seen. While in the 
 region of assthetic (to take another example), where 
 belief is of feebler growth, the inclination to admire 
 what squares with some current theory of the beau- 
 tiful, rather than with what appeals to any real feel- 
 ing for beauty, is so common that it has ceased even 
 to amuse. 
 
 But this reaction of formulas on the beliefs which 
 they co-ordinate or explain is but the first stage in 
 the process we are describing. The next is the 
 change, perhaps even the destruction, of the for- 
 mula itself by the victorious forces that it has pre- 
 viously held in check. The plastic body of belief, 
 or some portion of it, under the growing stress of 
 external and internal influences, breaks through, it 
 may be with destructive violence, the barriers by 
 which it was at one time controlled. A new theory 
 has to be formed, a new arrangement of knowl- 
 edge has to be accepted, and under changed con- 
 ditions the same cycle of not unfruitful changes 
 begins again. 
 
 I do not know that any illustration of this famil- 
 iar process is required, for in truth such examples
 
 BELIEFS AND FORMULAS 263 
 
 are abundant in every department of Knowledge. 
 As chalk consists of little else but the remains of 
 dead animalcul^e, so the history of thought consists 
 of little else but an accumulation of abandoned ex- 
 planations. In that vast cemetery every thrust of the 
 shovel turns up some bone that once formed part of 
 a living theory ; and the biography of most of these 
 theories would, I think, confirm the general account 
 which I have given of their birth, maturity, and 
 decay. 
 
 II 
 
 Now we may well suppose that under existing 
 circumstances death is as necessary in the intellect- 
 ual world as it is in the organic. It may not always 
 result in progress, but without it, doubtless, prog- 
 ress would be impossible ; and if, therefore, the 
 constant substitution of one explanation for another 
 could be effected smoothly, and as it were in silence, 
 without disturbing anything beyond the explana- 
 tions themselves, it need cause in general neither 
 anxiety nor regret. But, unfortunately, in the case 
 of Theology, this is not always the way things hap- 
 pen. There, as elsewhere, theories arise, have their 
 day, and fall ; but there, far more than elsewhere, do 
 these theories in their fall endanger other interests 
 than their own. More than one reason may be given 
 for this difference. To begin with, in Science the 
 beliefs of sense-perception, which, as I have implied,
 
 264 BELIEFS AND FORMULAS 
 
 are commonly vigorous enough to resist the warp- 
 ing effect of theory, even when the latter is in its 
 full strength, are not imperilled by its decay. They 
 provide a solid nucleus of unalterable conviction, 
 which survives uninjured through all the mutations 
 of intellectual fashion. We do not require the as- 
 sistance of hypotheses to sustain our faith in what 
 we see and hear. Speaking broadl}^ that faith is 
 unalterable and self-sufficient. 
 
 Theology is less happily situated. There it often 
 happens that when a theory decays, the beliefs to 
 which it refers are infected by a contagious weak- 
 ness. The explanation and the thing explained are 
 mutually dependent. They are animated as it were 
 with a common life, and there is always a danger 
 lest they should be overtaken by a common de- 
 struction. 
 
 Consider this difference between Science and 
 Theology in the light of the following illustration. 
 The whole instructed world were quite recently 
 agreed that heat was a form of matter. With equal 
 unanimity they now hold that it is a mode of motion. 
 These opinions are not only absolutely inconsistent, 
 but the change from one to the other is revolution- 
 ary, and involves the profoundest modification of 
 our general views of the material world. Yet no 
 one's confidence in the existence of some quality in 
 things by which his sensations of warmth are pro- 
 duced is thereby disturbed ; and we may hold either 
 of these theories, or both of them in turn, or no
 
 BELIEFS AND FORMULAS 265 
 
 theory at all, without endangering the stability of 
 our scientific faith. 
 
 Compare with this example drawn from physics 
 one of a very different kind drawn from theology. 
 If there be a spiritual experience to which the his- 
 tory of religion bears witness, it is that of Recon- 
 ciliation with God. If there be an 'objective' cause 
 to which the feeling is confidently referred, it is to 
 be found in the central facts of the Christian story. 
 Now, incommensurable as the subject is with that 
 touched on in the last paragraph, they resemble 
 each other at least in this — that both have been the 
 theme of much speculation, and that the accounts 
 (jf them which have satisfied one generation, to an- 
 other have seemed profitless and empty. But there 
 the likeness ends. In the physical case, the feeling 
 of heat and the inward assurance that it is really 
 connected with some quality in the external body 
 from which we suppose ourselves to derive it, sur- 
 vive every changing speculation as to the nature of 
 that quality and the mode of its operation. In the 
 spiritual case, the sense of Reconciliation connected 
 by the Christian conscience with the life and death 
 (A Christ seems in many cases to be bound up with 
 the explanations of the mystery which from time to 
 time have been hazarded by theological theorists. 
 And as these explanations have fallen out of favour, 
 the truth to be explained has too often been aban- 
 (h^ned also. 
 
 This is not the place to press the subject fuitlier:
 
 266 BELIEFS AND FORMULAS 
 
 and I have neither the right in these Notes to as- 
 sume the truth of particular theological doctrines, 
 nor is it my business to attempt to prove them. But 
 this much more 1 may perhaps be allowed to say by 
 way of parenthesis. If the point of view which this 
 Essay is intended to recommend be accepted, the 
 precedent set, in the first of the above examples, by 
 science is the one which ought to be followed by 
 theology. No doubt, when a belief is only accepted 
 as the conclusion of some definite inferential process, 
 with that process it must stand or fall. If, for in- 
 stance, we believe that there is hydrogen in the sun, 
 solely because that conclusion is forced upon us by 
 certain arguments based upon spectroscopic obser- 
 vations, then, if these arguments should ever be dis- 
 credited, the belief in solar hydrogen would, as a 
 necessary consequence, be shaken or destroyed. 
 But in cases where the belief is rather the occasion 
 of an hypothesis than a conclusion from it, the de- 
 struction of the hypothesis may be a reason for de- 
 vising a new one, but is certainly no reason for aban- 
 doning the belief. Nor in science do we ever take 
 any other view. We do not, for example, step over 
 a precipice because we are dissatisfied with all the 
 attempts to account for gravitation. In theology, 
 however, experience does sometimes lean too timidly 
 on theory, and when in the course of time theory 
 decays, it drags down experience in its fall. How 
 many persons are there, for example, who, because 
 they dislike the theories of Atonement propounded.
 
 BELIEFS AND FORMULAS 267 
 
 say, by Anselm, or by Grotius, or the versions of 
 these which have imbedded themselves in the de- 
 votional literature of Western Europe, feel bound 
 * in reason ' to give up the doctrine itself? Because 
 they cannot compress within the rigid limits of 
 some semi-legal formula a mystery which, unless it 
 were too vast for our full intellectfial comprehen- 
 sion, would surely be too narrow for our spiritual 
 needs, the mystery itself is to be rejected ! Because 
 they cannot contrive to their satisfaction a system 
 of theological jurisprudence which shall include Re- 
 demption as a leading case, Redemption is no longer 
 to be counted among the consolations of mankind ! 
 
 Ill 
 
 There is, however, another reason beyond the 
 natural strength of the judgments due to sense-per- 
 ception which tends to make the change or abandon- 
 ment of explanatory formulas a smoother operation 
 in science than it is in theology ; and this reason is 
 to be found in the fact that Religion works, and, to 
 produce its full results, must needs work, through 
 the agency of organised societies. It has, therefore, 
 a social side, and from this its speculative side 
 cannot, I believe, be kept wholly distinct. For al- 
 though feeling is the effectual bond of all societies, 
 these feelings themselves, it would seem, cannot be 
 properly developed without the aid of something 
 which is, or which docs duty as, a reason. They
 
 268 BELIEFS AND FORMULAS 
 
 require some alien material on which, so to speak, 
 they may be precipitated ; round which they may 
 crystallise and coalesce. In the case of political 
 societies this reason is founded on identity of race, 
 of language, of country, or even of mere material 
 interest. But when the religious society and the 
 political are not, as in primitive times, based on a 
 common ground, the desired reason can scarcely 
 be looked for elsewhere, and, in fact, never is 
 looked for elsewhere, than in the acceptance of com- 
 mon religious formulas. Whence it comes about 
 that these formulas have to fulfil two functions 
 which are not mereJy distinct but incomparable. 
 They are both a statement of theological conclu- 
 sions and the symbols of a corporate unity. They 
 represent at once the endeavour to sj^stematise re- 
 ligious truth and to organise religious associations ; 
 and they are therefore subject to two kinds of 
 influence, and involve two kinds of obligation, 
 which, though seldom distinguished, are never 
 identical, and may sometimes even be opposed. 
 
 The distinction is a simple one ; but the refusal 
 to recognise it has been prolific in embarrassments, 
 both for those who have assumed the duty of con- 
 triving symbols, and for those on whom has fallen 
 the burden of interpreting them. The rage for de- 
 fining ^ which seized so large a portion of Christen- 
 dom, both Roman and non-Roman, during the Ref- 
 ormation troubles, and the fixed determination to 
 
 ' Cf. Note at end of next chapter.
 
 BELIEFS AND FORMULAS 269 
 
 turn the definitions, when made, into impassable 
 barriers between hostile ecclesiastical divisions, are 
 among the most obvious, but not, I think, among 
 the most satisfactory, facts in modern religious his- 
 tory. To the definitions taken simply as well-in- 
 tentioned efforts to make clear that which was ob- 
 scure, and systematic that which was confused, I 
 raise no objections. Of the practical necessity for 
 some formal basis of Christian co-operation I am, as 
 I have said, most firmly convinced. But not every 
 formula which represents even the best theological 
 opinion of its age is therefore fitted to unite men 
 for all time in the furtherance of common religious 
 objects, or in the support of common religious in- 
 stitutions ; and the error committed in this con- 
 nection by the divines of the Reformation, and the 
 counter-Reformation, largely consisted in the mista- 
 ken supposition that symbols and decrees, in whose 
 very elaboration could be read the sure prophec}' 
 of decay, were capable of providing a convenient 
 framework for a perpetual organisation. 
 
 It is, however, beyond the scope of these Notes 
 to discuss the dangers which the inevitable use of 
 theological formulas as the groundwork of ecclesi- 
 astical co-operation may have upon Christian unity, 
 important and interesting as the subject is. I am 
 properly concerned solely with the other side of 
 the same shield, namely, the dangers with which 
 this inevitable combination of theory and practice 
 may threaten the smooth development of religious
 
 270 BELIEFS AND FORMULAS 
 
 beliefs — dangers which do not follow in the parallel 
 case of science, where no such combination is to be 
 found. The doctrines of science have not got to be 
 discussed amid the confusion and clamour of the 
 market-place ; they stir neither hate nor love ; the 
 fortunes of no living polity are bound up with them ; 
 nor is there any danger lest they become petrified 
 into party watchwords. Theology is differently 
 situated. There the explanatory formula may be 
 so historically intertwined with the sentiments and 
 traditions of the ecclesiastical organisation ; the 
 heat and pressure of ancient conflicts may have so 
 welded them together, that to modify one and leave 
 the other untouched seems well-nigh impossible. 
 Yet even in such cases it is interesting to note how 
 unexpectedly the most difficult adjustments are 
 sometimes effected ; how, partly by the conscious, 
 and still more by the unconscious, wisdom of man- 
 kind ; by a little kindly forgetfulness ; by a few 
 happy inconsistencies ; by methods which might 
 not always bear the scrutiny of the logician, though 
 they may well be condoned by the philosopher, the 
 changes required by the general movement of belief 
 are made with less friction and at a smaller cost — 
 even to the enlightened — than might, perhaps, ante- 
 cedently have been imagined.
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 BELIEFS, FORMULAS, AND REALITIES 
 
 The road which theological thought is thus com- 
 pelled to travel would, however, be rougher even than 
 it is were it not for the fact that large changes and 
 adaptations of belief are possible within the limits of 
 the same unchano^insr formulas. This is a fact to 
 which it has not been necessary hitherto to call the 
 reader's attention. It has been far more convenient, 
 and so far not, I think, misleading, to follow familiar 
 usage, and to assume that identity of statement in- 
 volves identity of belief ; that when persons make the 
 same assertions in good faith they mean the same 
 thinof. But this on closer examination is seen not to 
 be the case. In all branches of knowledge abundant 
 examples are to be discovered of statements which 
 do not fall into the cycle of change described in the 
 last section, which no lapse of time nor growth of 
 learning would apparently require us to revise. But 
 in every case it will, I think, be found that, with the 
 doubtful exception of purely abstract propositions, 
 these statements, themselves unmoved, represent a 
 moving body of belief, varying from (^nc period of
 
 272 BELIEFS, FORMULAS, AND REALITIES 
 
 life to another, from individual to individual, and 
 from generation to generation. 
 
 Take an example at random. 1 suppose that the 
 world, so long as it thinks it worth while to have an 
 opinion at all upon the subject, will continue to accept 
 without amendment the assertion that Julius Caesar 
 was murdered at Rome in the first century B.C. But, 
 are we therefore to suppose that this proposition 
 must mean the same thing in the mouths of all who 
 use it ? Surely not ? Even if we refuse to take 
 account of the associated sentiments which give a 
 different colour in each man's eyes to the same in- 
 tellectual judgment, we cannot ignore the varying 
 positions which the judgment itself may hold in dif- 
 ferent systems of belief. It is surely absurd to say 
 that a statement about the mode and time of Caesar's 
 death has the same significance for the schoolboy 
 who learns it as a line in a mcvioria tcchnica, and the 
 historian (if such there be) to whom it represents a 
 turning-point in the history of the world. Nor is it 
 possible to deny that any alteration in our views on 
 the nature of Death, or on the nature of Man, must 
 necessarily alter the import of a proposition which 
 asserts of a particular man that he suffered a par- 
 ticular kind of death. 
 
 This may perhaps seem to be an unprofitable 
 subtlety ; and so, to be sure, in this particular case, 
 it is. But a similar reflection is of obvious impor- 
 tance when we come to consider, for example, such 
 propositions as * there is a God,' or ' there is a world
 
 BELIEFS, FORMULAS, AND REALITIES 2/3 
 
 of material things.' Both these statements might 
 be, and are, accepted by the rudest savage and by 
 the most advanced philosopher. They may, so far 
 as we can tell, continue to be accepted by men in all 
 stages of culture till the last inhabitant of a perishing 
 world is frozen into unconsciousness. Yet plainly 
 the savage and the philosopher use these words in 
 very different meanings. From the tribal deity of 
 early times to the Christian God, or, if you prefer it, 
 the Hegelian Absolute ; from Matter as conceived 
 by primitive man to Matter as it is conceived by the 
 modern physicist, how vast the interval ! The for- 
 mulas are the same, the beliefs are plainly not the 
 same. Nay, so wide arc they apart, that while to 
 those who hold the earlier view the later would be 
 quite meaningless, it may require the highest effort 
 of sympathetic imagination for those whose minds 
 are steeped in the later view to reconstruct, even 
 imperfectly, the substance of the earlier. The civil- 
 ised man cannot fully understand the savage, nor 
 the grown man the child. 
 
 II 
 
 Now a question of some interest is suggested by 
 this reflection. Can we, in the face of the wide di- 
 vergence of meaning frequently conveyed by the 
 same formula at different times, assert that what en- 
 dures in such cases is anything more than a mere 
 husk or shell ? Is it more than the mould into which 
 i8
 
 274 BELIEFS, FORMULAS, AND REALITIES 
 
 any metal, base or precious, may be poured at will ? 
 Does identity of expression imply anything- which 
 deserves to be described as community of belief? 
 Are we here dealing with things, or only with words? 
 In order to answer this question we must have 
 some idea, in the first place, of the relation of Lan- 
 guage to Belief, and, in the second place, of the re- 
 lation of Belief to Reality. That the relation be- 
 tween the first of these pairs is of no very precise 
 or definite kind I have already indicated. And the 
 fact is so obvious that it would hardly be worth 
 while to insist on it were it not that Formal Logic 
 and conventional usage both proceed on exactly the 
 opposite supposition. They assume a constant rela- 
 tion between the symbol and the thing symbolised ; 
 and they consider that so long as a word is used (as 
 the phrase is) ' in the same sense,' it corresponds, or 
 ought to correspond, to the same thought. But this 
 is an artificial simplification of the facts ; a conven- 
 tion, most convenient for certain purposes, but sel- 
 dom or never observed when we are expressing 
 opinions about concrete realities. If in the sweat of 
 our brow we can secure that inevitable differences 
 of meaning do not vitiate the particular argument 
 in hand, we have done all that logic requires, and all 
 that lies in us to accomplish. Not only would more 
 be impossible, but more would most certainly be un- 
 desirable. Incessant variation in the uses to which 
 we put the same expression is absolutely necessary 
 if the complexity of the Universe is, even in the
 
 BELIEFS, FORMULAS, AND REALITIES 275 
 
 most imperfect fashion, to find a response in thought. 
 If terms were counters, each purporting always to 
 represent the whole of one unalterable aspect of 
 reality, language would become, not the servant of 
 thought, nor even its ally, but its tyrant. The wealth 
 of our ideas would be limited by the poverty of our 
 vocabulary. Science could not flourish, nor Litera- 
 ture exist. All play of mind, all variety, all devel- 
 opment would perish; and mankind would spend its 
 energies, not in using words, but in endeavouring to 
 define them. 
 
 It was this logical nightmare which oppressed 
 the intellect of the Middle Ages. The schoolmen 
 have been attacked for not occupying themselves 
 with experimental observation, which, after all, was 
 no particular business of theirs; for indulging in 
 excessive subtleties — surely no great crime in a 
 metaphysician ; and for endeavouring to combine 
 the philosophy and the theology of their day into a 
 coherent whole — an attempt which seems to me to 
 be entirely praiseworthy. A better reason for their 
 not having accomplished the full promise of their 
 genius is to be found in tiie assumption which lies 
 at the root of their interminable deductions, namely, 
 that language is, or can be made, what logic by a 
 convenient convention supposes it to be, and that if 
 it were so made, it would be an instrument better 
 fitted on that account to deal with the infinite vari- 
 ety of the actual world.
 
 276 BELIEFS, FORMULAS, AND REALITIES 
 
 III 
 
 If language, from the ver)^ nature of the case, 
 hangs thus loosely to the belief which it endeavours 
 to express, how closely does the belief fit to the 
 reality with which it is intended to correspond ? To 
 hear some persons talk one would really suppose 
 that the enlightened portion of mankind, i.e. those 
 who happen to agree with them, were blessed with 
 a precise knowledge respecting large tracts of the 
 Universe. They are ready on small provocation to 
 embody their beliefs, whether scientific or theologi- 
 cal, in a series of dogmatic statements which, as 
 they will tell you, accurately express their own ac- 
 curate opinions, and between which and any differing 
 statements on the same subject is fixed that great 
 gulf which divides for ever the realms of Truth 
 from those of Error. Now I would venture to warn 
 the reader against paying any undue meed of rever- 
 ence to the axiom on which this view essentially de- 
 pends, the axiom, I mean, that ' every belief must be 
 either true or not true.' It is, of course, indisputable. 
 But it is also unimportant ; and it is unimportant for 
 this reason, that if we insist on assigning every be- 
 lief to one or other of these two mutually exclusive 
 classes, it will be found that most, if not all, the posi- 
 tive beliefs which deal with concrete reality — the 
 very beliefs, in short, about which a reasonable man 
 may be expected principally to interest himself—
 
 BELIEFS, FORMULAS, AND REALITIES 277 
 
 would in strictness have to be classed amonjr the 
 ' not true.' I do not say, be it observed, that all 
 propositions about the concrete world must needs 
 be erroneous ; for, as we have seen, every proposi- 
 tion provides the fitting verbal expression for many 
 different beliefs, and of these it may be that one ex- 
 presses the full truth. My contention merely is, that 
 inasmuch as any fragmentary presentation of a con- 
 crete whole must, because it is fragmentary, be 
 therefore erroneous, the full complexity of any true 
 belief about reality will necessarily transcend the 
 comprehension of any finite intelligence. We know 
 only in part, and we therefore know wrongly. 
 
 But it may perhaps be said that observations like 
 these involve a confusion between the ' not true ' 
 and the ' incomplete.' A belief, as the phrase is, 
 may be ' true so far as it goes,' even though it does 
 not go far enough. It may contain the truth and 
 nothing but the truth, but not the whole truth. Why 
 should it under such circumstances receive so severe 
 a condemnation ? Why is it to be branded, not only 
 as inadequate, but as erroneous? To this I reply 
 that the division of beliefs into the True, the Incom- 
 plete, and the Wholly False may be, and for many 
 purposes is, a very convenient one. But in the first 
 place it is not philosophically accurate, since that 
 which is incomplete is touched throughout with 
 some element of falsity. And in the second place it 
 does not hapi)en to be the division on which we are 
 engaged. We are dealing with the logical contra-
 
 278 BELIEFS, FORMULAS, AND REALITIES 
 
 dictories ' True ' and ' Not True.' And what makes 
 it worth while dealing with them is, that the partic- 
 ular classification of beliefs which thej suggest lies 
 at the root of much needless controversy in all 
 branches of knowledge, and not least in theology ; 
 and that everywhere it has produced some confusion 
 of thought and, it may be, some defect of charity. 
 It is not in human nature that those who start from 
 the assumption that all opinions are either true or 
 not true, should do otherwise than take for granted 
 that their own particular opinions belong to the 
 former category ; and that therefore all inconsistent 
 opinions held by other people must belong to the 
 latter. Now this, in the current affairs of life, and 
 in the ordinary commerce between man and man, is 
 not merely a pardonable but a necessary way of look- 
 ing at things. But it is foolish and even dangerous 
 when we are engaged on the deeper problems of 
 science, metaphysics, or theology ; when we are 
 endeavouring in solitude to take stock of our posi- 
 tion in the presence of the Infinite. However pro- 
 found may be our ignorance of our ignorance, at 
 least we should realise that to describe (when using 
 language strictly) any scheme of belief as wholly 
 false which has even imperfectly met the needs of 
 mankind, is the height of arrogance ; and that to 
 claim for any beliefs which we happen to approve 
 that they are wholly true, is the height of absurdity. 
 Somewhat more, be it observed, is thus required 
 of us than a bare confession of ignorance. The
 
 BELIEFS, FORMULAS, AND REALITIES 279 
 
 least modest of men would admit without difficulty 
 that there are a great many things which he does 
 not understand ; but the most modest may perhaps 
 be willing to suppose that there are some things 
 which he does. Yet outside the relations of abstract 
 propositions (about which I say nothing) this cannot 
 be admitted. Nowhere else — neither in our knowl- 
 edge of ourselves, nor in our knowledge of each 
 other, nor in our knowledge of the material world, 
 nor in our knowledge of God, is there any belief 
 which is more than an approximation, any method 
 which is free from flaw, any result not tainted with 
 error. The simplest intuitions and the remotest 
 speculations fall under the same condemnation. 
 And though the fact is apt to be hidden from us 
 by the unshrinking definitions with which alike in 
 science and theology it is our practice to register 
 attained results, it would, as we have seen, be a 
 serious mistake to suppose that any complete corre- 
 spondence between Belief and Reality was secured 
 by the linguistic precision and the logical impecca- 
 bility of the propositions by which beliefs themselves 
 are conimuuicatcd and recorded. 
 
 To some persons this train of reflection suggests 
 nothing but sceptical misgiving and intellectual 
 despair. To me it seems, on the other hand, to save 
 us fr(;ni both. What kind of a Universe would that 
 be which we could understand? if it were intel- 
 ligible (by us), would it be credible? If our reason 
 could comprehend it, would it not be too narrow
 
 28o BELIEFS, FORMULAS, AND REALITIES 
 
 for our needs? ' I believe because it is impossible ' 
 may be a pious paradox. ' I disbelieve because it is 
 simple ' commends itself to me as an axiom. An 
 axiom doubtless to be used with discretion : an 
 axiom which may easily be perverted in the inter- 
 ests of idleness and superstition ; but one, neverthe- 
 less, which contains a valuable truth not always 
 remembered by those who make especial profession 
 of worldly wisdom. 
 
 IV 
 
 However this may be, the opinions here advo- 
 cated may help us to solve certain difficulties oc- 
 casionally suggested by current methods of dealing 
 with the relation between Formulas and Beliefs. It 
 has not always, for instance, been found easy to 
 reconcile the immutability claimed for theological 
 doctrines with the movement observed in theologi- 
 cal ideas. Neither of them can readily be aban- 
 doned. The conviction that there are Christian 
 verities which, once secured for the human race, 
 cannot by any lapse of time be rendered obsolete 
 is one which no Church would willingly abandon. 
 Yet the fact that theological thought follows the 
 laws which govern the evolution of all other thought, 
 that it changes from age to, age, largely as regards 
 the relative emphasis given to its various elements, 
 not inconsiderably as regards the substance of those 
 elements themselves, is a fact written legibly across
 
 BELIEFS, FORMULAS, AND REALITIES 28 1 
 
 the pages of ecclesiastical history. How is this 
 apparent contradiction to be accommodated ? 
 
 Consider another difficulty — one quite of a dif- 
 ferent kind. The common sense of mankind has 
 been shocked at the value occasionally attributed 
 to uniformity of theological profession, when it is 
 perhaps obvious from many of the circumstances of 
 the case that this carries with it no security for uni- 
 formity of inward conviction. There is an unreal- 
 ity, or at least an externality about such professions 
 which, to those who think (rightly enough) that 
 religion, if it is to be of any value, must come from 
 the heart, is apt not unnaturally to be repulsive. 
 Yet, on the other hand, it is but a shallow form of 
 historical criticism which shall attribute this desire 
 for conformity either to mere impatience of ex- 
 pressed differences of opinion (no doubt a powerful 
 and widely distributed motive), or to the perversi- 
 ties of Priestcraft. What, then, is the view which 
 we ought to take of it? Is it good or bad? and, if 
 good, what purpose does it serve ? 
 
 Now these questions may be answered, I think, 
 at least in i)art, if we keep in mind two distinc- 
 tions on which in tiiis and the preceding chapter 
 I have ventured to insist — the distinctions, I mean, 
 /// tJic first place, between the function of formu- 
 las as the systematic expression of religious doc- 
 trine, and their function as the basis of religious co- 
 operation ; anrl the distinction, /// tlic second place, 
 between the accuracy of any foimuLa and the real
 
 282 BELIEFS, FORMULAS, AND REALITIES 
 
 truth of the various beUefs which it is capable of 
 expressing. 
 
 Uniformity of profession, for example, to take the 
 last difficulty first, can be regarded as unimportant 
 only by those who forget that, while there is no 
 necessary connection whatever between the causes 
 which conduce to successful co-operation and those 
 which conduce to the attainment of speculative 
 truth, of these two objects the first may, under 
 certain circumstances, be much more important than 
 the second. A Church is something more than a 
 body of more or less qualified persons engaged more 
 or less successfully in the study of theology. It 
 requires a ver}^ different equipment from that which 
 is sufficient for a learned society. Something more 
 is asked of it than independent research. It is an 
 organisation charged with a great practical work. 
 For the successful promotion of this work unity, dis- 
 cipline, and self-devotion are the principal requisites ; 
 and, as in the case of every other such organisation, 
 the most powerful source of these qualities is to be 
 found in the feelings aroused by common memories, 
 common hopes, common loyalties; by professions 
 in which all agree ; by a ceremonial which all share ; 
 by customs and commands which all obey. He, 
 therefore, who would wish to expel such influences 
 either from Church or State, on the ground that 
 they may alter (as alter they most certainly will) the 
 opinions which, in their absence, the members of 
 the community, left to follow at will their own spec-
 
 BELIEFS, FORMULAS, AND REALITIES 283 
 
 Illative devices, would otherwise form, may know 
 something of science or philosophy, but assuredly 
 knows very little of human nature. 
 
 But it will perhaps be said that co-operation, if 
 it is only to be had on these terms, may easily be 
 bought too dear. So, indeed, it may. The history 
 (^f the Church is unhappily there to prove the fact. 
 But as this is true of religious organisations, so also 
 is it true of every other organisation — national, po- 
 litical, military, what you will — by which the work 
 of the w(^rld is rendered possible. There are circum- 
 stances which may make schism justifiable, as there 
 are circumstances which make treason justifiable, or 
 mutiny justifiable. But without going into the ethics 
 of revolt, without endeavouring to determine the 
 exact degree of error, oppression, or crime on the 
 part of those who stay within the organisation which 
 ma}- render innocent or necessary the secession of 
 those who leave it, it is, in my judgment, perfectly 
 plain that something very different is, or ought to 
 be, involved in the acceptance or rejection of com- 
 mcjn formulas than an announcement to the world 
 of a purely speculative agreement respecting the 
 niceties of doctrinal statement. 
 
 This view may perhaps be more readily accepted 
 when it is realised that, as I have pointed out, no 
 agreement about theological or any other doctrine 
 insures, or, indeed, is capable of [)roducing, same- 
 ness of belief. We are no more able to believe what 
 other people believe than to feel what other people
 
 284 BELIEFS, FORMULAS, AND REALITIES 
 
 feel. Two friends read together the same descrip- 
 tion of a landscape. Does anyone suppose that it 
 stirs within them precisely the same quality of sen- 
 timent, or evokes precisely the same subtle associa- 
 tions ? And yet, if this be impossible, as it surely 
 is, even in the case of friends attuned, so far as may 
 be, to the same emotional key, how hopeless must 
 it be in the case of an artist and a rustic, an Ancient 
 and a Modern, an Andaman islander and a European ! 
 But if no representation of the splendours of Nature 
 can produce in us any perfect identity of admiration, 
 why expect the definitions of theology or science to 
 produce in us any perfect identity of belief? It may 
 not be. This uniformity of conviction which so 
 many have striven to attain for themselves, and to 
 impose upon their fellows, is an unsubstantial phan- 
 tasm, born of a confusion between language and the 
 thought which language so imperfectly expresses. 
 In this world, at least, we are doomed to differ even 
 in the cases where we most agree. 
 
 There is, however, consolation to be drawn from 
 the converse statement, which is, I hope, not less true. 
 If there are differences where we most agree, surely 
 also there are agreements where we most differ. I 
 like to think of the human race, from whatever 
 stock its members may have sprung, in whatever 
 age they may be born, whatever creed they may 
 profess, together in the presence of the One Reality, 
 engaged, not wholly in vain, in spelling out some 
 fragments of its message. All share its being ; to
 
 BELIEFS, FORMULAS, AND REALITIES 285 
 
 none are its oracles wholly dumb. And if both in 
 the natural world and in the spiritual the advance- 
 ment we have made on our forefathers be so great 
 that our interpretation seems indefinitely removed 
 from that which primitive man could alone compre- 
 hend, and wherewith he had to be content, it may 
 be, indeed 1 think it is, the case that our approxi- 
 mate guesses are still closer to his than they are to 
 their common (Object, and that far as we seem to 
 have travelled, yet, measured on the celestial scale, 
 our intellectual progress is scarcely to be discerned. 
 so minute is the parallax of Infinite Truth. 
 
 These observations, however, seem only to ren- 
 der more distant an}^ satisfactory solution of the 
 first of the difficulties propounded above. If knowl- 
 edge must, at the best, be so imperfect ; if agi-ee- 
 ment, real inner agreement, about the object of 
 knowledge can thus never be complete; and if, in 
 addition to this, the histor}' of religious thought is, 
 like all other histor}^ one of change and develop- 
 ment, where and what are those immutable doc- 
 trines which, in the opinion of most theologians, 
 ought to be handed on, a sacred trust, from genera- 
 tion U) generation? The answer to this question is, 
 I think, suggested by the parallel cases of science 
 and ethics. For all these things may be said of 
 Ihcm as well as of tlieology, and they also are the 
 1 rustees of statements which ought to be preserved 
 unchanged llirnu'^li nil revolutions in scientific and 
 ethical the(jiy. Ol these statements 1 do nol pre-
 
 286 BELIEFS, FORMULAS, AND REALITIES 
 
 tend to give either a list or a definition. But with- 
 out saying what they are, it is at least permissible, 
 after the discussion in the last chapter, to say what, 
 as a rule, they are not. They are not Explanatory. 
 Rare indeed is it to find explanations of the concrete 
 which, if they endure at all, do not require perpetual 
 patching to keep them in repair. Not among these, 
 but among the statements of things explained, of 
 things that want explanation, yes, and of things that 
 are inexplicable, we must search for the proposi- 
 tions about the real world capable of ministering 
 unchanged for indefinite periods to the uses of Man- 
 kind. Such propositions may record a particular 
 'fact,' as that ' Cassar is dead.' They may embody 
 an ethical imperative, as that ' Stealing is wrong,' 
 They may convey some great principle, as that the 
 order of Nature is uniform, or that ' God exists.' 
 All these statement, even if accurate (as I assume, 
 for the sake of argument, that they are), will, no 
 doubt, as I have said, have a different import for 
 different persons and for different ages. But this is 
 not only consistent with their value as vehicles for 
 the transmission of truth — it is essential to it. If 
 their meaning could be exhausted by one genera- 
 tion, they would be false for the next. It is because 
 they can be charged with a richer and richer con- 
 tent as our knowledge slowly grows to a fuller har- 
 mony with the Infinite Reality, that they may be 
 counted among the most precious of our inalienable 
 possessions.
 
 BELIEFS, FORMULAS, AND REALITIES 28/ 
 
 NOTE 
 
 The permanent value which the results of the great ecclesias- 
 tical controversies of the first four centuries have had for Chris- 
 tendom, as compared with that possessed by the more transitory 
 speculations of later ages, illustrates, I think, the suggestion con- 
 tained in the text. For whatever opinion the reader may entertain 
 of the decisions at which the Church arrived on the doctrine of the 
 Trinity, it is at least clear that they were not in the nature of ex- 
 planations. They were, in fact, precisely the reverse. They were 
 the negation of explanations. The various heresies which it com- 
 bated were, broadly speaking, all endeavours to bring the mystery 
 as far as possible into harmony with contemporary speculations, 
 Gnostic, Neo-platonic, or Rationalising, to relieve it from this or 
 that difficulty : in short, to do something towards ' explaining ' it. 
 The Church held that all such explanations or partial explanations 
 inflicted irremediable impoverishment on the idea of the Godhead 
 which was essentially involved in the Christian revelation. They 
 insisted on preserving that idea in all its inexplicable fulness ; and 
 so it has come about that while such simplifications as those of the 
 Arians, for example, are so alien and impossible to modern modes of 
 thought that if they had been incorporated with Christianity they 
 must have destroyed it, the doctrine of Christ's Divinity still gives 
 reality and life to the worship of millions of pious souls, who are 
 wholly ignorant both of the controversy to which they owe its 
 preservation, and of the technicalities which its discussion has in- 
 volved.
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 'ULTIMATE SCIENTIFIC IDEAS' 
 
 If, as is not unlikely, there are readers who ac- 
 cept unwillingly this profession of all-pervading 
 error in so far as it applies to our scientific knowl- 
 edge — who are disposed to represent Science as a 
 Land of Goshen, bright beneath the unclouded 
 splendours of the midday sun, while Religion lies 
 beyond, wrapped in the impenetrable darkness of 
 the Egyptian plague — I would suggest for their 
 further consideration certain arguments, not drawn 
 like those in the preceding section from the nature 
 of our knowledge in general, nor like those in an 
 earlier portion of this Essay from the deficiencies 
 which may be detected in scientific proof, but based 
 exclusively upon an examination of fundamental 
 scientific ideas considered in themselves. For these 
 ideas possess a quality, exhibited no doubt equally 
 by ideas in other departments of knowledge, which 
 admirably illustrates our ignorance of what we know 
 best, our blindness to what we see most clearly. 
 This quality, indeed, is not very easy to describe in 
 a sentence ; but perhaps it may be provisionally in- 
 dicated by saying that, although these ideas seem
 
 'ULTIMATE SCIENTIFIC IDEAS' 289 
 
 quite simple so long as we only have to handle them 
 for the practical purposes of daily life, ye.t, when they 
 are subjected to critical investigation, they appear 
 to crumble under the process ; to lose all precision 
 of outline ; to vanish like the magician in the story, 
 leaving only an elusive mist in the grasp of those 
 who would arrest them. 
 
 Nothing, for instance, seems simpler than the 
 idea involved in the statement that we are, each of 
 us, situated at any given moment in some par- 
 ticular portion of space, surrounded by a multitude 
 of material things, which are constantly acting 
 upon us and upon each other. A proposition of 
 this kind is merely a generalised form of the judg- 
 ments which we make every minute of our waking 
 lives, about whose meaning we entertain no manner 
 of doubt, which, indeed, provide us with our famil- 
 iar examples of all that is most lucid and most cer- 
 tain. Yet the purport of the sentence which ex- 
 presses it is clear only till it is examined, is certain 
 only till it is questioned; while almost every word 
 in it suggests, and has long suggested, perplexing 
 problems to all who are prepared to consider them. 
 
 What are ' we ' ? What is space? Can ' wc ' be 
 in space, or is it only our bodies about which an}' 
 such statement can be made ? Wliat is a ' thing '? 
 and, in particular, what is a 'material thing'? 
 What is meant by saying that one ' material thing ' 
 acts u])on another? What is meant by saying that 
 'material things' act upt»ii 'us'? Here are six 
 19
 
 290 ' ULTIMATE SCIENTIFIC IDEAS ' 
 
 questions all directly and obviously arising out of 
 our most familiar acts of judgment Yet, direct and 
 obvious as they are, it is hardly too much to say 
 that they involve all the leading problems of mod- 
 ern philosophy, and that the man who has got an 
 answer to them is the fortunate possessor of a toler- 
 ably complete system of metaphysics. 
 
 Consider, for example, the simplest of the six 
 questions enumerated above, namely, What is a 
 ' material thing ' ? Nothing could be plainer till 
 you consider it. Nothing can be obscurer when 
 you do. A ' thing ' has qualities — hardness, weight, 
 shape, and so forth. Is it merely the sum of these 
 qualities, or is it something more? If it is merely 
 the sum of its qualities, have these any independent 
 existence ? Nay, is such an independent existence 
 even conceivable ? If it is something more, what 
 is the relation of the ' qualities ' to the ' something 
 more ' ? Again, can we on reflection regard a 
 ' thing ' as an isolated * somewhat,' an entity self- 
 sufficient and potentially solitary? Or must we not 
 rather regard it as being what it is in virtue of its 
 relation to other ' somewhats,' which, again, are 
 what they are in virtue of their relation to it, and to 
 each other ? And if we take, as I think we must, 
 the latter alternative, are we not driven by it into 
 a profitless progression through parts which are 
 unintelligible by themselves, but which yet obsti- 
 nately refuse to coalesce into any fully intelligible 
 whole ?
 
 'ULTIMATE SCIENTIFIC IDEAS' 291 
 
 Now, I do not serve up these cold fragments of 
 ancient though unsolved controversies for no better 
 purpose than to weary the reader who is familiar 
 with metaphysical discussion, and to puzzle the 
 reader who is not. I rather desire to direct atten- 
 tion to the universality of a difficulty which many 
 persons seem glad enough to acknowledge when 
 they come across it in Theology, though they ad- 
 mit it only with reluctance in the case of Ethics and 
 Esthetics, and for the most part completely ignore 
 it when they are dealing with our knowledge of 
 ' phenomena.' Yet in this respect, at least, all these 
 branches of knowledge would appear to stand very 
 much upon an equality. In all of them conclusions 
 seem more certain than premises, the superstruct- 
 ure more stable than the foundation. In all of 
 them we move with full assurance and a practical 
 security only among ideas which are relative and 
 dependent. In all of them these ideas, so clear and 
 so sufficient for purposes of everyday thought and 
 action, become confused and but dimly intelligible 
 when examined in the unsparing light of critical 
 analysis. 
 
 We need not, therefore, be surprised if we find 
 it hard to isolate the permanent element in Beauty, 
 seeing that it eludes us in material objects; that the 
 ground of Moral Law should not be wholl}^ clear, 
 seeing that the ground of Natural Law is so (ob- 
 scure ; that \vc do not adecpiatcly coiii|ii( Iiciid God, 
 seeing that we can give no very salislactory ac-
 
 292 'ULTIMATE SCIENTIFIC IDEAS' 
 
 count of what we mean by ' a thing.' Yet I think 
 a more profitable lesson is to be learnt from admis- 
 sions like these than the general inadequacy of our 
 existing metaphysic. And it is the more necessary 
 to consider carefully what that lesson is, inasmuch 
 as a very perverted version of it forms the basis of 
 the only modern system of English growth which, 
 professing to provide us with a general philosophy, 
 has received any appreciable amount of popular 
 support. 
 
 Mr. Spencer's theory admits, nay, insists, that 
 what it calls * ultimate scientific ideas ' are incon- 
 sistent and, to use his own phrase, * unthinkable.' 
 Space, time, matter, motion, force, and so forth, are 
 each in turn shown to involve contradictions which 
 it is beyond our power to solve, and obscurities 
 which it is beyond our power to penetrate ; while 
 the once famous dialectic of Hamilton and Mansel 
 is invoked for the purpose of enforcing the same 
 lesson with regard to the Absolute and the Uncon- 
 ditioned, which those thinkers identified with God, 
 but which Mr. Spencer prefers to describe as the 
 Unknowable. 
 
 So far, so good. Though the details of the dem- 
 onstration may not be altogether to our liking, 
 I, at least, have no particular quarrel with its gen- 
 eral tenor, which is in obvious harmony with much 
 that I have just been insisting on. But when we 
 have to consider the conclusion which Mr. Spencer 
 contrives to extract from these premises, our differ-
 
 'ULTIMATE SCIENTIFIC IDEAS' 293 
 
 ences become irreconcilable. He has proved, or 
 supposes himself to have proved, that the ' ultimate 
 ideas ' of science and the ' ultimate ideas ' of the- 
 ology are alike ' unthinkable.' What is the proper 
 inference to be drawn from these statements ? 
 Why, clearly, that science and theology are so far 
 on an equality that every proposition which con- 
 siderations like these oblige us to assert about the 
 one, we are bound to assert also about the other; 
 and that our general theor}^ of knowledge must 
 take account of the fact that both these great de- 
 partments of it are infected by the same weakness. 
 
 This, however, is not the inference drawn by Mr. 
 Spencer. The idea that the conclusions of science 
 should be profaned by speculative questionings is to 
 him intolerable. He shrinks from an admission 
 which seems to him to carry universal scepticism 
 in its train. And he has, accordingly, hit upon a 
 device for ' reconcilincr ' the differences between 
 science and religion by which so lamentable a ca- 
 tastrophe may be avoided. His method is a simple 
 one. He divides the verities which have to be be- 
 lieved into those which relate to the Knowable and 
 those which relate t(j the Unknowable. What is 
 kmnvable he ai)propriates, without exception, for 
 science. What is unknowable he abandons, with- 
 out reserve, to religion. With the results of this 
 arbitration both contending parties should, in his 
 opinion, be satisfied. It is true that religion ma}' 
 complain that by this arrangement it is made the
 
 294 ' ULTIMATE SCIENTIFIC IDEAS ' 
 
 residuary legatee of all that is * unthinkable ' ; but 
 then, it should remember that it obtains in exchange 
 an indefeasible title to all that is ' real.' Science, 
 again, may complain that its activities are confined 
 to the 'relative' and the 'dependent'; but then, 
 it should remember that it has a monopoly of the 
 ' intelligible.' The one possesses all that can be 
 known ; the other, all that seems worth knowing. 
 With so equal a partition of the spoils both dispu- 
 tants should be content. 
 
 Without contesting the fairness of this curious 
 arrangement, I am compelled to question its valid- 
 ity. Science cannot thus transfer the burden of its 
 own obscurities and contradictions to the shoulders 
 of religion; and Mr. Spencer is only, perhaps, mis- 
 led into supposing such a procedure to be possible 
 by his use of the word ' ultimate.' ' Ultimate ' scien- 
 tific ideas may, in his opinion, be ' unthinkable ' 
 without prejudice to the ' thinkableness' of 'proxi- 
 mate ' scientific ideas. The one may dwell for ever 
 in the penumbra of what he calls ' nascent conscious- 
 ness,' in the dim twilight where religion and science 
 are indistinguishable ; while the other stands out, 
 definite and certain, in the full light of experience 
 and verification. Such a view is not, I think, philo- 
 sophically tenable. As soon as the ' unthinkable- 
 ness ' of ' ultimate ' scientific ideas is speculatively 
 recognised, the fact must react upon our specula- 
 tive attitudes towards 'proximate' scientific ideas. 
 That which in the order of reason is dependent can-
 
 'ULTIMATE SCIENTIFIC IDEAS' 295 
 
 not be unaffected by the weaknesses and the ob- 
 scurities of that on which it depends. If the one is 
 unintelHijible, the other can hardly be rationally es- 
 tablished. 
 
 In order to prove this — if proof be required — we 
 need not travel beyond the ample limits of Mr. 
 Spencer's own philosophy. To be sure he obstinately 
 shuts his ears against speculative doubts respecting 
 the conclusions of science. ' To ask whether science 
 is substantially true is [he observes] much like asking 
 whether the sun gives light.' ^ It is, I admit, very 
 much like it. But then, on Mr. Spencer's principles, 
 docs the sun give light? After due consideration we 
 shall have to admit, I think, that it does not. For it 
 is a statement which, if made intelligently, not only 
 involves the comprehension of matter, space, time, 
 and force, which are, according to Mr. Spencer, all 
 incomprehensible, but there is the further difficulty 
 that, if his system is to be believed, 'what we are 
 conscious of as properties of matter, even down to 
 weight and resistance, are but subjective affections 
 jnoduccd by objective agencies, which are unknown 
 and unknowable.'^ It would seem, therefore, cither 
 that the sun is a ' subjective affection,' in which case 
 it can hardly be said to ' give light ' ; or it is ' un- 
 known ' and ' unkntjwable,' in which case no assertion 
 respecting it can be regarded as supplying us with 
 any very flattering specimen of scientihc certitude. 
 
 The truth is that Mr. Spencer, like many of his 
 
 ' First Principles, p. 19. " Principles of Psychology, ii. 493.
 
 296 ' ULTIMATE SCIENTIFIC IDEAS ' 
 
 predecessors, has impaired the value of his specula- 
 tions by the hesitating- timidity with which he has 
 pursued them. Nobody is required to investigate 
 first principles ; but those who voluntarily undertake 
 the task should not shrink from its results. And if 
 among these we have to count a theoretical scepti- 
 cism about scientific knowledge, we make matters, 
 not better, but worse, by attempting to ignore it. In 
 Mr. Spencer's case this procedure has, among other 
 ill consequences, caused him to miss the moral which 
 at one moment lay ready to his hand. He has had 
 the acuteness to see that our beliefs cannot be limited 
 to the sequences and the co-existences of phenomena ; 
 that the ideas on which science relies, and in terms 
 of which all science has to be expressed, break down 
 under the stress of criticism ; that beyond what we 
 think we know, and in closest relationship with it, 
 lies an infinite field which we do not know, and which 
 with our present faculties we can never know, yet 
 which cannot be ignored without making what we 
 do know unintelligible and meaningless. But he 
 has failed to see whither such speculations must in- 
 evitably lead him. He has failed to see that if the 
 certitudes of science lose themselves in depths of un- 
 fathomable mystery, it may well be that out of these 
 same depths there should emerge the certitudes of 
 religion ; and that if the dependence of the ' know- 
 able' upon the 'unknowable' embarrasses us not in 
 the one case, no reason can be assigned why it should 
 embarrass us in the other.
 
 ' ULTIMATE SCIENTIFIC IDEAS ' 297 
 
 Mr. Spencer, in sliort, has avoided the error of 
 dividing all reality into a Perceivable which concerns 
 us, and an Unperceivable which, if it exists at all, 
 concerns us not. Agnosticism so understood he ex- 
 plicitly repudiates by his theory, if not by his practice. 
 But he has not seen that, if this simple-minded creed 
 be once abandoned, there is no convenient halting- 
 place till we have swung round to a theory of things 
 which is its precise opposite : a theory which, though 
 it shrinks on its speculative side from no severity of 
 critical analysis, yet on its practical side finds the 
 source of its constructive energy in the deepest 
 needs of man, and thus recognises, alike in science, 
 in ethics, in beauty, in religion, the halting expres- 
 sion of a reality beyond our reach, the half-seen 
 vision of transcendent Truth.
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 SCIENCE AND THEOLOGY 
 
 The point of view we have thus reached is obvi- 
 oiisl)^ the precise opposite of that which is adopted 
 by those who either accept the naturalistic view of 
 things in its simplicity, or who agree with natural- 
 ism in taking our knowledge of Nature as the core 
 and substance of their creed, while gladly adding to 
 it such supernatural supplements as are permitted 
 them by the canons of their rationalising philosophy. 
 Of these last there are two varieties. There are 
 those who refuse to add anything to the teaching 
 of science proper, except such theological doctrines 
 as they persuade themselves may be deduced from 
 scientific premises. And there are those who, being 
 less fastidious in the matter of proof, are prepared, 
 tentatively and provisionally, to admit so much of 
 theology as they think their naturalistic premises 
 do not positively contradict. 
 
 It must, I think, be admitted that the members 
 of these two classes are at some disadvantage com- 
 pared with the naturalistic philosophers proper. To
 
 SCIENCE AND THEOLOGY 299 
 
 be sure, the scheme of belief so confidently propound- 
 ed by the latter is, as we have seen, both incoherent 
 and inadequate. But its incoherence is hid fr(^m 
 them by the inevitableness of its positive teaching; 
 while its inadequacy is covered by the, as yet, un- 
 squandered heritage of sentiments and ideals which 
 has come down to us from other ages inspired by 
 other faiths. On the other hand, as a set-off against 
 this, they may justly claim that their principles, 
 such as they are, have been worked out to their le- 
 gitimate conclusion. They have reached their jour- 
 ney's end, and there they may at least rest, if it is 
 not given them to be thankful. Far different is the 
 fate of those who are reluctantly travelling the road 
 to naturalism, driven thither by a false philosophy 
 honestly entertained. To them each new discovery 
 in geology, morphology, anthropology, or the ' high- 
 er criticism,' arouses as much theological anxiety 
 as it does scientific interest. They are perpetually 
 occupied in the task of ' reconciling,' as the phrase 
 goes, 'religion and science.' This is to them, not an 
 intellectual luxury, but a pressing and overmaster- 
 ing necessity. For their theology exists only on 
 sufTerance. It rules over its hereditary territories 
 as a tributary vassal dependent on the forbearance 
 of some encroaching overlord. Province after 
 province which once acknowledged its sovereignty 
 has been torn from its grasp ; and it depends no 
 longer upon its own action, but upon Ihc uncon- 
 trolled policy of its too powerful neighbour, how
 
 300 SCIENCE AND THEOLOGY 
 
 long it shall preserve a precarious authority over 
 the remainder. 
 
 Now, my reasons lor entirely dissenting from 
 this melancholy view of the relations between the 
 various departments of belief have been one of the 
 chief themes of these Notes. But it must not on 
 this account be supposed that I intend to deny, 
 either that it is our business to ' reconcile ' all be- 
 liefs, so far as possible, into a self-consistent whole, 
 or that, because a perfectly coherent philosophy 
 cannot as yet be attained, it is, in the meanwhile, a 
 matter of complete indifference how many contra- 
 dictions and obscurities we admit into our provi- 
 sional system. Some contradictions and obscurities 
 there needs must be. That we should not be able 
 completely to harmonise the detached hints and 
 isolated fragments in which alone Reality comes in- 
 to relation with us ; that we should but imperfectly 
 co-ordinate what we so imperfectly comprehend, 
 is what we might expect, and what for the pres- 
 ent we have no choice but to submit to. Yet 
 it will, I think, be found on examination that 
 the discrepancies which exist between different de- 
 partments of belief are less in number and impor- 
 tance than those which exist within the various de- 
 partments themselves ; that the difficulties which 
 science, ethics, or theology have to solve in common 
 are more formidable by far than any which divide 
 them from each other ; and that, in particular, the 
 supposed 'conflict between science and religion,'
 
 SCIENCE AND THEOLOGY 3OI 
 
 which occupies so large a space in contemporary 
 literature, is the theme of so much vigorous debate, 
 and seems to so many earnest souls the one question 
 worth resolving, is either concerned for the most 
 part with matters in themselves comparatively tri- 
 fling, or touches interests lying far beyond the limits 
 of pure theology. 
 
 Of course, it must be remembered that I am now 
 talkinsf of science, not of naturalism. The differ- 
 ences between naturalism and theology are, no 
 doubt, irreconcilable, since naturalism is by defini- 
 tion the negation of all theology. But science must 
 not be dragged into every one of the many quarrels 
 which naturalism has taken upon its shoulders. 
 Science is in no way concerned, for instance, to deny 
 the reality of a world unrevealed to us in sense-per- 
 ception, nor the- existence of a God who, however 
 imperfectly, may be known by those who diligently 
 seek Him. All it says, or ought to say, is that these 
 are matters beyond its jurisdiction; to be tried, 
 therefore, in other courts, and before judges admin- 
 istering different laws. 
 
 But we may go further. The being of God may 
 be beyond the province of science, and yet it may 
 be from a consideration of the general body of 
 scientific knowledge that philosophy draws some 
 important motives for accepting the doctrine. Any 
 complete survey of the ' proofs of theism ' would, I 
 need not say, be here quite out of place; yet, in 
 order to make clear where 1 ihink the real difficulty
 
 302 SCIENCE AND THEOLOGY 
 
 lies in framing any system which shall include both 
 theology and science, I may be permitted to say 
 enough about theism to show where I think the 
 difficulty does not lie. It does not lie in the doctrine 
 that there is a supernatural or, let us say, a meta- 
 physical ground, on which the whole system of 
 natural phenomena depend ; nor in the attribution 
 to this ground of the quality of reason, or, it may 
 be, of something higher than reason, in which rea- 
 son is, so to speak, included. This belief, with all 
 its inherent obscurities, is, no doubt, necessary to 
 theology, but it is at the same time so far, in my 
 judgment, from being repugnant to science that, 
 without it, the scientific view of the natural world 
 would not be less, but more, beset with difficulties 
 than it is at present. 
 
 This fact has been in part obscured by certain 
 infelicities in the popular statements of what is 
 known as the ' Argument from Design.' In a 
 famous answer to that argument it has been pointed 
 out that the inference from the adaptation of means 
 to ends, which rightly convinces us in the case of 
 manufactured articles that they are not the result of 
 chance, but are produced by intelligent contrivance, 
 can scarcely be legitimately applied to the case of 
 the universe as a whole. An induction which may 
 be perfectly valid within the circle of phenomena, 
 may be quite meaningless when it is employed to 
 account for the circle itself. You cannot infer a 
 God from the existence of the world as you infer an
 
 SCIENCE AND THEOLOGY 303 
 
 architect from the existence of a house, or a me- 
 chanic from the existence of a watch. 
 
 Without discussing the merits of this answer at 
 length, so much may, I think, be conceded to it — 
 that it suggests a doubt whether the theologians 
 who thus rely upon an inductive proof of the being 
 of God are not in a position somewhat similar to 
 that of the empirical philosophers who rely upon 
 an inductive proof of the uniformity of Nature. 
 The uniformity of Nature, as I have before ex- 
 plained, cannot be proved by experience, for it is 
 what makes proof from experience possible.' We 
 must bi"ing it, or something like it, to the facts 
 in order to infer anything from them at all. As- 
 sume it, and we shall no doubt find that, broadly 
 speaking and in the rough, what we call the facts 
 conform to it. But this conformity is not inductive 
 proof, and must not be confounded with it. In the 
 same way, I do not contend that, if we start from 
 Nature without God, we shall be logically driven 
 to believe in Him by a mere consideration of the 
 examples of adaptation which it undoubtedly con- 
 tains. It is enough that when we bring this belief 
 with us to the study of phenomena, we can say of 
 
 ' This phrase has a Kantian rin(? about it ; but I need not say 
 that it is not here used in tlie Kantian sense. The argument is 
 touched on, as the reader may recollect, at the end of Chapter I., 
 Part II. .See, however, below a further discussion as to what the 
 uniformity of Nature means, and as to what may be properly in- 
 ferred from it.
 
 304 SCIENCE AND THEOLOGY 
 
 it, what we have just said of the principle of uni- 
 formity, namely, that, ' broadly speaking and in the 
 rough,' the facts harmonise with it, and that it gives 
 a unity and a coherence to our apprehension of the 
 natural world which it would not otherwise possess. 
 
 II 
 
 But the argument from design, in whatever 
 shape it is accepted, is not the only one in favour of 
 theism with which scientific knowledge furnishes 
 us. Nor is it, to my mind, the most important. 
 The argument from design rests upon the world as 
 known. But something also may be inferred from 
 the mere fact that we know — a fact which, like 
 every other, has to be accounted for. And how is 
 it to be accounted for ? I need not repeat again 
 what I have already said about Authority and Rea- 
 son ; for it is evident that, whatever be the part 
 played by reason among the proximate causes of 
 belief, among the ultimate causes it plays, accord- 
 ing to science, no part at all. On the naturalistic 
 hypothesis, the whole premises of knowledge are 
 clearly due to the blind operation of material causes, 
 and in the last resort to these alone. On that hy- 
 pothesis we no more possess free reason than we 
 possess free will. As all our volitions are the in- 
 evitable product of forces which are quite alien to 
 morality, so all our conclusions are the inevitable 
 product of forces which are quite alien to reason.
 
 SCIENCE AND THEOLOGY 305 
 
 As the casual introduction of conscience, or a 'good 
 will,' into the chain of causes which ends in a ' vir- 
 tuous action ' ought not to suggest any idea of 
 merit, so the casual introduction of a little ratiocina- 
 tion as a stray link in the chain of causes which 
 ends in what we are pleased to describe as a ' dem- 
 onstrated conclusion,' ought not to be taken as 
 impl3ing that the conclusion is in harmou}^ with 
 fact. Morality and reason are august names, which 
 give an air of respectability to certain actions and 
 certain arguments ; but it is quite obvious on exam- 
 ination that, if the naturalistic hypothesis be cor- 
 rect, they are but unconscious tools in the hands of 
 their unmoral and non - rational antecedents, and 
 that the real responsibility for all they do lies in the 
 distribution of matter and energy which liaj)[)enccl 
 to prevail far back in the incalculable past. 
 
 These conclusions are, no doubt, as we saw at 
 the beginning of this Essay, embarrassing enough 
 to Morality. But they are absolutely ruinous to 
 Knowledge. For they require us to accept a sys- 
 tem as rational, one of whose doctrines is that the 
 system itself is the product of causes which have no 
 tendency to truth rather than falsehood, or to false- 
 hood rather than truth. Forget, if you please, that 
 reason itself is the result, like nerves or muscles, of 
 physical antecedents. Assume (a tolerably violent 
 assumption) that in dealing with her premises she 
 obeys only her own laws. Of what value is this 
 autonomy if those premises are sellUd for he r by 
 20
 
 306 SCIENCE AND THEOLOGY 
 
 purely irrational forces, which she is powerless to 
 control, or even to comprehend? The professor of 
 naturalism rejoicing in the display of his dialectical 
 resources, is like a voyager, pacing at his own pleas- 
 ure up and down the ship's deck, who should sup- 
 pose that his movements had some important share 
 in determining his position on the illimitable ocean. 
 And the parallel would be complete if we can con- 
 ceive such a voyager pointing to the alertness of 
 his step and the vigour of his limbs as auguring 
 well for the successful prosecution of his journey, 
 while assuring you in the very same breath that the 
 vessel, within whose narrow bounds he displays all 
 this meaningless activity, is drifting he knows not 
 whence nor whither, without pilot or captain, at the 
 bidding of shifting winds and incalculable currents. 
 
 Consider the following propositions, selected 
 from the naturalistic creed or deduced from it :— 
 
 (i.) My beliefs, in so far as they are the result of 
 reasoning at all, are founded on premises produced 
 in the last resort by the ' collision of atoms.' 
 
 (ii.) Atoms, having no prejudices in favour of 
 truth, are as likely to turn out wrong premises as 
 right ones ; nay, more likel}^ inasmuch as truth is 
 single and error manifold. 
 
 (iii.) My premises, therefore, in the first place, 
 and my conclusions in the second, are certainly 
 untrustworthy, and probably false. Their falsity, 
 moreover, is of a kind which cannot be remedied ; 
 since any attempt to correct it must start from
 
 SCIENCE AND THEOLOGY 307 
 
 premises not suffering under the same defect. But 
 no such premises exist. 
 
 (iv.) Therefore, again, my opinion about the 
 original causes which produced my premises, as it 
 is an inference from them, partakes of their weak- 
 ness ; so that I cannot either securely doubt my 
 own certainties or be certain about my own doubts. 
 
 This is scepticism indeed ; scepticism which is 
 forced by its own inner nature to be sceptical even 
 about itself; which neither kills belief nor lets it 
 live. But it may perhaps be suggested in reply to 
 this argument, that whatever force it may have 
 against the old-fashioned naturalism, its edge is 
 blunted when turned against the evolutionary ag- 
 nosticism of more recent growth ; since the latter 
 establishes the existence of a machinery which, irra- 
 tional though it be, does really tend gradually, and 
 in the long run, to produce true opinions rather 
 tliaii false. That machinery is, I need not say. Se- 
 lection, '.ind the other forces (if other fcjrces there be) 
 which bring the ' organism ' into more and more 
 perfect harmony with its ' environment.' Some har- 
 mony is necessary — so runs tiie argument — in order 
 that any form of life ma}' be possible; and as life de- 
 velops, the harmony necessarily becomes more and 
 more complete. But since there is no more imj)or- 
 tant form in which this harmony can show itself than 
 Iriitli of belief, which is, indeed, only ant.lliei- name 
 lor the perfect correspondence between belief and 
 fact. Nature, herein acting as a kind of cosmic In-
 
 308 SCIENCE AND THEOLOGY 
 
 quisition, will repress by judicious persecution any 
 lapses from the standard of naturalistic orthodoxy. 
 Sound doctrine will be fostered ; error will be dis- 
 couraged or destroyed ; until at last, by methods 
 which are neither rational themselves nor of rational 
 origin, the cause of reason will be fully vindicated. 
 Arguments like these are, however, quite insuffi- 
 cient to justify the conclusion which is drawn from 
 them. In the first place, they take no account of 
 any causes which were in operation before life ap- 
 peared upon the planet. Until there occurred the 
 unexplained leap from the Inorganic to the Organic, 
 Selection, of course, had no place among the evolu- 
 tionary processes ; while even after that date it was, 
 from the nature of the case, only concerned to foster 
 and perpetuate those chance -borne beliefs which 
 minister to the continuance of the species. But 
 what an utterly inadequate basis for speculation is 
 here ! We are to suppose that powers which were 
 evolved in primitive man and his animal progenitors 
 in order that they might kill with success and marry 
 in security, are on that account fitted to explore the 
 secrets of the universe. We are to suppose that 
 the fundamental beliefs on which these powers of 
 reasoning are to be exercised reflect with sufficient 
 precision remote aspects of reality, though they were 
 produced in the main by physiological processes 
 which date from a stage of development when the 
 onl}' curiosities which had to be satisfied were those 
 of fear and those of hunger. To say that instru-
 
 SCIENCE AND THEOLOGY 309 
 
 ments of research constructed solely for uses like 
 these cannot be expected to supply us with a meta- 
 physic or a theology, is to say far too little. They 
 cannot be expected to give us any general view even 
 of the phenomenal world, or to do more than guide 
 us in comparative safety from the satisfaction of one 
 useful appetite to tlie satisfaction of another. On 
 this theory, therefore, we are again driven back to 
 the same sceptical position in which we found our- 
 selves left by the older forms of the ' positive,' or 
 naturalistic creed. On this theory, as on the other, 
 reason has to recognise that her rights of in(lc[)cn- 
 dcnt judgment and review arc merely titular digni- 
 ties, carrying with them no effective powers ; and 
 that, whatever her pretensions, she is, for the most 
 part, the mere editor and interpreter of the utter- 
 ances of unreason. 
 
 I do not believe that any escape from these per- 
 plexities is possible, unless we are prepared to bring 
 to the study of the world the presupposition that it 
 was the work of a rational Being, wlio made // intel- 
 ligible, and at the same time made !/s, in however 
 feeble a fashion, able to understand it. This concep- 
 tion does not solve all difficulties ; far from it.^ But, 
 
 ' According to a once prevalent theory, ' innate ideas ' were true 
 because they were implanted in us by God. According to my way 
 of putting it, there must be a God to justify our confidence in (what 
 used to be called) innate ideas. I have given the arguinent in a 
 form which avoids all discussion as to the nature of the relation 
 between mind and body. Whatever be the mode of describing 
 this which ultimately commends itself to naturalistic psychologists,
 
 3IO SCIENCE AND THEOLOGY 
 
 at least, it is not on the face of it incoherent. It does 
 not attempt the impossible task of extracting reason 
 from unreason ; nor does it require us to accept 
 among scientific conclusions any which effectually 
 shatter the credibility of scientific premises. 
 
 Ill 
 
 Theism, then, whether or not it can in the strict 
 meaning of the word be described as proved by sci- 
 ence, is a principle which science, for a double rea- 
 son, requires for its own completion. The ordered 
 system of phenomena asks for a cause ; our knowl- 
 edge of that system is inexplicable unless we assume 
 for it a rational Author. Under this head, at least, 
 there should be no ' conflict between science and re- 
 ligion.' 
 
 It is true, of course, that if theism smoothes away 
 some of the dilTficulties which atheism raises, it is not 
 on that account without difficulties of its own. We 
 cannot, for example, form, I will not say any ade- 
 quate, but even any tolerable, idea of the mode in 
 which God is related to, and acts on, the world of 
 phenomena. That He created it, that He sustains 
 it, we are driven to believe. How He created it, 
 how He sustains it, is impossible for us to imagine. 
 But let it be observed that the difficulties which thus 
 arise are no peculiar heritage of theology, or of a 
 
 the reasoninj^ in the text holds good. Cf. the purely sceptical 
 presentation of the argument contained in Philosophic Doubt, 
 chap. xiii.
 
 SCIENCE AND THEOLOGY 311 
 
 science which accepts among its presuppositions the 
 central truth which theology teaches. Naturalism 
 itself has to face them in a yet more embarrassing- 
 form. For they meet us not only in connection with 
 the doctrine of God, but in connection with the doc- 
 trine of man. Not Divinity alone intervenes in the 
 world of things. Each living soul, in its measure 
 and degree, does the same. Each living soul which 
 acts on its surroundings raises questions analogous 
 to, and in some ways more perplexing than, those 
 suggested by the action of a God immanent in a 
 universe of phenomena. 
 
 Of course I am aware that, in thus speaking of 
 the connection between man and his material sur- 
 roundings, I am assuming the truth of a theory 
 which some men of science (in this, however, travel- 
 ling a little beyond their province) would most 
 energetically deny. But their denial really only 
 serves to emphasise the extreme difificulty of the 
 problem raised by the relation of the Self to phenom- 
 ena. So hardly pressed are they by these difficul- 
 ties that, in order to evade them, they attempt an 
 impossible act of suicide ; and because the Self 
 refuses to figure as a phenomenon among phenom- 
 ena, or complacently to fit in to a purely scientific 
 view of the world, they set al)out the hopeless task 
 of suppressing it altogether. Enough has already 
 been said on this point to permit me to j)ass it by. 
 I will, therefore, only observe that those who ask us 
 to reject the conviction entertained by each one of
 
 312 SCIENCE AND THEOLOGY 
 
 US, that he does actually and effectually intervene in 
 the material world, may have many grounds of ob- 
 jection to theology, but should certainly not include 
 among them the reproach that it asks us to believe 
 the incredible. 
 
 But, in truth, without going into the metaphysics 
 of the Self, our previous discussions ^ contain ample 
 
 ^ Cf. ante. Part II., Chaps. I. and II. It may be worth while 
 reminding the reader of one set of difficuhies to which I have made 
 little reference in the text. Every theory of the relation between 
 Will, or, more strictly, the Willing Self and Matter must come under 
 one of two heads: — (i) Either Will acts on Matter, or (2) it does 
 not. If it does act on Matter, it must be either as Free Will or as 
 Determined Will. If it is as Free Will, it upsets the uniformity of 
 Nature, and our most fundamental scientific conceptions must be 
 recast. If it is as Determined, Will that is to say, if volition be in- 
 terpolated as a necessary link between one set of material move- 
 ments and another, then, indeed, it leaves the uniformity of Nature 
 untouched ; but it violates mechanical principles. According to 
 the mechanical view of the world, the condition of any material sys- 
 tem at one moment is absolutely determined by its condition at the 
 preceding moment. In a world so conceived there is no room for 
 the interpolation even of Determined Will among the causes of ma- 
 terial change. It is mere surplusage. 
 
 (2.) If the Will does not act on Matter, then we must suppose 
 either that volition belongs to a psychic series running in a parallel 
 stream to the physiological changes of the brain, though neither in- 
 fluenced by it nor influencing it — which is, of course, the ancient 
 theory of pre-established harmony ; or else we must suppose that 
 it is a kind of superfluous consequence of certain physiological 
 changes, produced presumably without the exhaustion of any form 
 of energy, and having no effect whatever, either upon the material 
 world or, I suppose, upon other psychic conditions. This reduces 
 us to automata, and automata of a kind very difficult to find proper 
 accommodation for in a world scientifically conceived. 
 
 None of these alternatives seem very attractive, but one of them 
 would seem to be inevitable.
 
 SCIENCE AND THEOLOGY 313 
 
 material for showing how impenetrable are the mists 
 which obscure the relation of mind to matter, of 
 things to the perception of things. Neither can be 
 eliminated from our system. Both must perforce 
 form elements in every adequate representation of 
 reality. Yet the philosophic artist has still to arise 
 who shall combine the two into a single picture, 
 without doing serious violence to essential features, 
 either of the one or the other. I am myself, indeed, 
 disposed to doubt whether any concession made by 
 the ' subjective ' to the ' objective,' or by the ' ob- 
 jective ' to the ' subjective,' short of the total de- 
 struction of one or the other, will avail to produce 
 a harmonious scheme. And certainly no discord 
 could be so barren, so unsatisfying, so practically 
 impossible, as a harmony attained at such a cost. 
 We must acquiesce, then, in the existence of an un- 
 solved difficulty. But it is a difificulty which meets 
 us, in an even more intractable form, when we strive 
 to realise the nature of our own relations to the little 
 world in which we move, than when we are dealing 
 with a like problem in respect to the Divine S[)irit, 
 Who is the Ground of all being and the Source of 
 all change. 
 
 IV 
 
 But though there should thus be no conflict 
 between theology and science, either as to the exist- 
 ence of God or as to the possibility of His acting 
 on phenomena, it by no means follows that the idea
 
 3!4 SCIENCE AND THEOLOGY 
 
 of God which is suggested by science is compatible 
 with the idea of God which is developed by theology. 
 Identical, of course, they need not be. Theology 
 would be unnecessary if all we are capable of learn- 
 ing about God could be inferred from a study of 
 Nature. Compatible, however, they seemingly must 
 be, if science and religion are to be at one. 
 
 And yet I know not whether those who are most 
 persuaded that the claims of these two powers are 
 irreconcilable rest their case willingly upon the most 
 striking incongruity between them which can be 
 produced — I mean the existence of misery and the 
 triumphs of wrong. Yet no one is, or, indeed, could 
 be, blind to the difficulty which thence arises. From 
 the world as presented to us by science we might 
 conjecture a God of power and a God of reason ; 
 but we never could infer a God who was wholly 
 loving and wholly just. So that what religion pro- 
 claims aloud to be His most essential attributes are 
 precisely those respecting which the oracles of 
 science are doubtful or are dumb. 
 
 One reason, I suppose, why this insistent thought 
 does not, so far as my observation goes, supply a 
 favourite weapon of controversial attack, is that 
 ethics is obviously as much interested in the moral 
 attributes of God as theology can ever be (a point 
 to which I shall presently return). But another 
 reason, no doubt, may be found in the fact that the 
 difficulty is one which has been profoundly realised 
 bv relicrious minds ages before organised science can
 
 SCIENCE AND THEOLOGY 315 
 
 be said to have existed ; while, on the other hand, 
 the growth of scientific knowledge has neither in- 
 creased nor diminished the burden of it by a feather- 
 weight. The question, therefore, seems, though not, 
 I think, quite correctly, to be one which is wholly, 
 as it were, within the frontiers of theology, and 
 which theologians may, therefore, be left to deal 
 with as best they may, undisturbed by any argu- 
 ments supplied by science. If this be not in theory 
 strictly true, it is in practice but little wide of the 
 mark. The facts which raise the problem in its 
 acutest form belong, indeed, to that portion of the 
 experience of life which is the common property of 
 science and theology ; but theology is much more 
 deeply concerned in them than science can ever be, 
 and has long faced the unsolved problem which they 
 present. The weight which it has thus borne for 
 all these centuries is not likely now to crush it; and, 
 paradoxical though it seems, it is yet surely true, 
 that what is a theological stumbling-block may also 
 be a religious aid ; and that is in part the thought 
 of 'all creation groaning and travailing in pain to- 
 gether, waiting for redemption,' which creates in 
 man the deepest need for faith in the love of God. 
 
 I conceive, then, that those who lalk of the 'con- 
 flict between science and religion ' do not, as a rule, 
 refer to the difficulty presented by the existence of
 
 3l6 SCIENCE AND THEOLOGY 
 
 Evil. Where, then, in their opinion, is the point of 
 irreconcilable difference to be found? It will, I sup- 
 pose, at once be replied, in Miracles. But though 
 the answer has in it a measure of truth, though, with- 
 out doubt, it is possible to approach the real kernel 
 of the problem from the side of miracles, I confess 
 this seems to me to be in fact but seldom accom- 
 plished ; while the very term is more suggestive of 
 controversy, wearisome, unprofitable, and unending, 
 than any other in the language. Free Will alone be- 
 ing excepted. Into this Serbonian bog I scarcely 
 dare ask the reader to follow me, though the advent- 
 ure must, I am afraid, be undertaken if the purpose 
 of this chapter is to be accomplished. 
 
 In the first place, then, it seems to me unfort- 
 unate that the principle of the Uniformity of Nat- 
 ure should so often be dragged into a controversy 
 with which its connection is so dubious and obscure. 
 For what do we mean by saying that Nature is uni- 
 form ? We may mean, perhaps we ought to mean, 
 that (leaving Free Will out of account) the condition 
 of the world at one moment is so connected with its 
 condition at the next, that if we could imagine it 
 brought twice into exactly the same position, its 
 subsequent history would in each case be exactly 
 the same. Now no one, I suppose, imagines that uni- 
 formity in this sense has any quarrel with miracles. 
 If a miracle is a wonder wrought by God to meet 
 the needs arising out of the special circumstances of 
 a particular moment, then, supposing the circum-
 
 SCIENCE AND THEOLOGY 317 
 
 Stances were to recur, as they would if the world 
 were twice to pass through the same phase, the 
 miracle, we cannot doubt, would recur also. It is 
 not possible to suppose that the uniformity of Nat- 
 ure thus broadly interpreted would be marred by 
 Him on Whom Nature depends, and Who is im- 
 manent in all its changes. 
 
 But it will be replied that the uniformity with 
 which miracles are thus said to be consistent carries 
 with it no important consequences whatever. Its 
 truth or untruth is a matter of equal indifference to 
 the practical man, the man of science, and the phi- 
 losopher. It asserts in reality (it may be said) no 
 more than this, that if history once began repeating 
 itself, it would go on doing so, like a recurring dec- 
 imal. But as history in fact never docs exactly re- 
 peat itself, as the universe never is twice over pre- 
 cisely in the same condition, we should no more be 
 able to judge the future from the past, or to detect 
 the operation of particular laws of Nature in a world 
 where only this kind of theoretic uniformity pre- 
 vailed, than we should under the misrule of chaos 
 and blind chance. 
 
 There is force in these observations, which are, 
 however, much more embarrassing to the philos- 
 ophy of science than to that of theology. Without 
 doubt all experimental inference, as well as the or- 
 dinary conduct of life, depends on supplementing 
 this general view of the uniformit)^ of Nature with 
 certain working hyi)olhcses which arc not always,
 
 3l8 SCIENCE AND THEOLOGY 
 
 though they ought to be, most carefully distin- 
 guished from it. One of these is, that Nature is 
 not merely uniform as a whole, but is made up of a 
 bundle of smaller uniformities ; or, in other words, 
 that there is a determinate relation, not onl}'- be- 
 tween the successive phases of the whole universe, 
 but between successive phases of certain fragments 
 of it ; which successive phases we commonly de- 
 scribe as ' causes ' and ' effects.' Another of these 
 working hypotheses is, that though the universe as 
 a whole never repeats itself, these isolated fragments 
 of it do. And a third is, that we have means at our 
 disposal whereby these fragments can be accurately 
 divided off from the rest of Nature, and confidently 
 recognised when they recur. Now I doubt whether 
 any one of these three presuppositions — which, be it 
 noted, lie at the very root of the collection of em- 
 pirical maxims which we dignify with the name of 
 inductive logic — can, from the point of view of philos- 
 ophy, be regarded as more than an approximation. 
 It is hard to believe that the concrete Whole of 
 things can be thus cut up into independent portions. 
 It is still harder to believe that any such portion is 
 ever repeated absolutely unaltered ; since its char- 
 acter must surely in part depend upon its relation 
 to all the other portions, which (by hypothesis) are 
 not repeated with it. And it is quite impossible to 
 believe that inductive logic has succeeded by any 
 of its methods in providing a sure criterion for de- 
 termining, when any such portion is apparently re-
 
 SCIENCE AND THEOLOGY 319 
 
 peated, whether all the elements, and not more than 
 all, are again present which on previous occasions 
 did really constitute it a case of ' cause ' and ' effect.' ^ 
 
 If this seems paradoxical, it is chiefly because 
 we habitually use phraseology which, strictly inter- 
 preted, seems to imply that a ' law of Nature,' as it 
 is called, is a sort of self-subsisting entity, to whose 
 charge is confided some department in the world 
 of phenomena, over which it rules with undisputed 
 swav. Of course this is not so. In the world of 
 phenomena, Reality is exhausted by what is and 
 what happens. Beyond this there is nothing. These 
 'laws' are merely abstractions devised by us for 
 our own guidance through the complexities of fact. 
 They possess neither independent powers nor actual 
 existence. And if we would use language with per- 
 fect accuracy, we ought, it would seem, either to 
 say that the same cause would always be followed 
 by precisely the same effect, if it recurred — which 
 it never does ; or that, in certain regions of Nature, 
 though only in certain regions, we can detect sub- 
 ordinate uniformities of repetition wdiich, though 
 not exact, enable us without sensible insecurity or 
 error to anticipate the future or reconstruct the 
 past. 
 
 This hurried glance which I have asked the 
 reader to take into some obscure corners of induc- 
 tive theory is by no means intended to suggest that 
 
 • See some of these points more fully worked out in Philosophic 
 Doji/'f, Part I., Chap. II.
 
 320 SCIENCE AND THEOLOGY 
 
 it is as easy to believe in a miracle as not ; or even 
 that on other grounds, presently to be referred to, 
 miracles ought not to be regarded as incredible. 
 But it does show, in my judgment, that no profit can 
 yet be extracted from controversies as to the pre- 
 cise relation in which they stand to the Order of 
 the world. Those engaged in these controversies 
 have not uncommonly committed a double error. 
 They have, in the first place, chosen to assume that 
 we have a perfectly clear and generally accepted 
 theory as to what is meant by the Uniformity of 
 Nature, as to what is meant by particular Laws of 
 Nature, as to the relation in which the particular 
 Laws stand to the general Uniformity, and as to the 
 kind of proof by which each is to be established. 
 And, having committed this philosophic error, they 
 proceed to add to it the historical error of crediting 
 primitive theology with a knowledge of this theory, 
 and with a desire to improve upon it. They seem 
 to suppose that apostles and prophets were in the 
 habit of looking at the natural world in its ordinary 
 course, with the eyes of an eighteenth-century deist, 
 as if it were a bundle of uniformities which, once 
 set going, went on for ever automatically repeating 
 themselves; and that their message to mankind con- 
 sisted in announcing the existence of another, or 
 supernatural world, which occasionally upset one 
 or two of these natural uniformities by means of a 
 miracle. No such theory can be extracted from 
 their writings, and no such theory should be read
 
 SCIENCE AND THEOLOGY $21 
 
 into them ; and this not merely because such an at- 
 tribution is unhistorical, nor yet because there is 
 any ground for doubting the interaction of the 
 ' spiritual ' and the ' natural ' ; but because this ac- 
 count of the 'natural' itself is one which, if inter- 
 preted strictly, seems open to grave philosophical 
 objection, and is certainly deficient in philosophic 
 proof. 
 
 The real difficulties connected with theological 
 miracles lie elsewhere. Two qualities seem to be of 
 their essence : they must be wonders, and they must 
 be wonders due to the special action of Divine power ; 
 and each of these qualities raises a special problem of 
 its own. That raised by the first is the question of 
 evidence. What amount of evidence, if an}^, is suf- 
 ficient to render a miracle credible? And on this, 
 which is apart from the main track of ni)- argument, 
 I may perhaps content myself with pointing out, 
 that if by evidence is meant, as it usually is, histor- 
 ical testimony, this is not a fixed quantity, the same 
 for every reasonable man, no matter what may be 
 his other opinions. It varies, and must necessaril}- 
 vary, with the general views, the ' psychological 
 climate,* which he brings to its consideration. It is 
 ])()ssible to get twelve plain men to agree on the evi- 
 dence which requires them to bring in a verdict of 
 guilty or not guilty, because they start with a com- 
 mon stock of presuppositions, in the light of which 
 the evidence su])miftcd to them may, without pre- 
 liminary discussion, be interpreted. But when, as 
 
 21
 
 322 SCIENCE AND THEOLOGY 
 
 in the case of theological miracles, there is no such 
 common stock, any agreement on a verdict can 
 scarcely be looked for. One of the jury may hold 
 the naturalistic view of the world. To him, of 
 course, the occurrence of a miracle involves the 
 abandonment of the whole philosophy in terms of 
 which he is accustomed to interpret the universe. 
 Argument, custom, prejudice, authority — every con- 
 viction-making machine, rational and non-rational, 
 by which his scheme of belief has been fashioned— 
 conspire to make this vast intellectual revolution 
 difficult. And we need not be surprised that even 
 the most excellent evidence for a few isolated inci- 
 dents is quite insufficient to effect his conversion ; 
 nor that he occasionally shows a disposition to go 
 very extraordinary lengths in contriving historical 
 or critical theories for the purpose of explaining 
 such evidence away. 
 
 Another may believe in ' verbal inspiration.' To 
 him, the discussion of evidence in the ordinary sense 
 is quite superfluous. Every miracle, whatever its 
 character, whatever the circumstances in which it 
 occurred, whatever its relation, whether essential 
 or accidental, to the general scheme of religion, is 
 to be accepted with equal confidence, provided it 
 be narrated in the works of inspired authors. It is 
 written : it is therefore true. And in the light of 
 this presupposition alone must the results of any 
 merel}' critical or historical discussion be finally 
 judged.
 
 SCIENCE AND THEOLOGY 323 
 
 A third of our supposed jurymen may reject 
 both naturalism and verbal inspiration. He may 
 appraise the evidence alleged in favour of ' Wonders 
 due to the special action of Divine power ' by the 
 light of an altogether different theory of the world 
 and of God's action therein. He may consider re- 
 ligion to be as necessary an element in any adequate 
 scheme of belief as science itself. Every event, 
 therefore, whether wonderful or not, a belief in 
 whose occurrence is involved in that religion, every 
 event by whose disproof the religion would be seri- 
 ously impoverished or altogether destroyed, has be- 
 hind it the whole combined strength of the system 
 to which it belongs. It is not, indeed, believe-^' in- 
 dependently of external evidence, any more than 
 the most ordinary occurrences in history are be- 
 lieved independently of external evidence. But 
 it does not require, as some people appear to sup- 
 pose, the impossible accumulation of proof on proof, 
 of testimonv on testimony, before the presumption 
 asrainst it can be neutralised. For, in truth, no such 
 presumption may exist at all. Strange as the mira- 
 cle must seem, and inharmonious when considered 
 as an alien element in an otherwise naturalistic set- 
 ting, it may assume a character of inevitableness, it 
 may almost proclaim aloud that thus it has occurred, 
 and not otherwise, to those who consider it in its rela- 
 tion, not to the natural world alone, but to the spirit- 
 ual, and to the needs of man as a citizen of both.
 
 324 SCIENCE AND THEOLOGY 
 
 VI 
 
 Many other varieties of ' psychological climate * 
 might be described ; but what I have said is, perhaps, 
 enough to show how absurd it is to expect any 
 unanimity as to the value of historical evidence until 
 some better agreement has been arrived at respect- 
 ing the presuppositions in the light of which alone 
 such evidence can be estimated. I pass, therefore, 
 to the difficulty raised by the second, and much more 
 fundamental, attribute of theological miracles to 
 which I have adverted, namely, that they are due to 
 the * special action of God.' But this, be it ob- 
 served, is, from a religious point of view, no pecul- 
 iarity of miracles. Few schemes of thought which 
 have any religious flavour about them at all, wholly 
 exclude the idea of what I will venture to call the 
 ' preferential exercise of Divine power,' whatever 
 differences of opinion may exist as to the manner in 
 which it is manifested. There are those who reject 
 miracles but who, at least in those fateful moments 
 when they imaginatively realise their own helpless- 
 ness, will admit what in a certain literature is called 
 a ' special Providence.' There are those who reject 
 the notion of ' special Providence,' but who admit a 
 sort of Divine superintendence over the general 
 course of history. There are those, again, who re- 
 ject in its ordinar)' shape the idea of Divine super- 
 intendence, but who conceive that they can escape
 
 SCIENCE AND THEOLOGY 325 
 
 from philosophic reproach by beating- out the idea 
 yet a little thinner, and admitting that there does 
 exist somewhere a ' Power which makes for right- 
 eousness.' 
 
 For my own part, I think all these various 
 opinions are equally open to the only form of attack 
 which it is worth while to bring against any one of 
 them. And if we allow, as (supposing religion in 
 any shape to be true) we must allow, that the ' pref- 
 erential action ' of Divine power is possible, nothing 
 is gained by qualifying the admission with all those 
 fanciful limitations and distinctions with which dif- 
 ferent schools of thought have seen fit to encumber 
 it. The admission itself, however, is one which, in 
 whatever shape it may be made, no doubt suggests 
 questions of great difficulty. How can the Divine 
 Being Who is the Ground and Source of everything 
 that is, Who sustains all, directs all, produces all, be 
 connected more closely with one part of that which 
 He has created than with another? If every event 
 be wholly due to Him, how can we say that any single 
 event, such as a miracle, or any tendency of events, 
 such as 'making for righteousness,* is specially His? 
 What room for difference or distinction is there 
 within the circuit of His universal power? Since 
 the relation between His creation and Him is 
 throughout and in every [)articular one of absolute 
 dependence, what meaning can we attach to the 
 metaphor which represents Him as taking part with 
 one fragment of it, or as hostile to another?
 
 326 SCIENCE AND THEOLOGY 
 
 Now it has, in the first place, to be observed that 
 ethics is almost as much concerned in dealing with 
 this difficulty as theology itself. For if we cannot 
 believe in ' preferential action,' neither can we be- 
 lieve in the moral qualities of which ' preferential 
 action ' is the sign ; and with the moral qualities of 
 God is bound up the fate of anything which deserves 
 to be called morality at all, I am not now arguing 
 that ethics cannot exist unsupported by theism. On 
 this theme I have already said something, and shall 
 have to say more. My present contention is, that 
 though history may show plenty of examples in 
 heathendom of ethical theory being far in advance 
 of the recognised religion, it is yet impossible to 
 suppose that morality would not ultimately be de- 
 stroyed by the clearly realised belief in a God Who 
 was either indifferent to good or inclined to evil. 
 
 For a universe in which all the power was on the 
 side of the Creator, and all the morality on the side 
 of creation, would be one compared with which the 
 universe of naturalism would shine out a paradise 
 indeed. Even the poet has not dared to represent 
 Jupiter torturing Prometheus without the dim fig- 
 ure of Avenging Fate waiting silently in the back- 
 ground. But if the ideas of an immoral Creator 
 governing a world peopled with moral, or even 
 with sentient, creatures, is a speculative nightmare, 
 the case is not materially mended by substituting 
 for an immoral Creator an indifferent one. Once 
 assume a God, and we shall be obHged, sooner or
 
 SCIENCE AND THEOLOGY 327 
 
 later, to introduce harmony into our system by 
 making obedience to His will coincident with the 
 established rules of conduct. We cannot frame our 
 advice to mankind on the hypothesis that to defy 
 Omnipotence is the beginning of wisdom. But if 
 this process of adjustment is to be done consistently 
 with the maintenance of any eternal and absolute 
 distinction between right and wi'ong, then must His 
 will be a 'good will,' and we must suppose Him to 
 look with favour upon some parts of this mixed 
 world of good and evil, and with disfavour upon 
 others. If, on the other hand, this distinction seems 
 to us metaphysically impossible ; if we cannot do 
 otherwise than regard Him as related in precisely 
 the same way to every portion of His creation, look- 
 ing with indifferent eyes upon misery and happiness, 
 truth and error, vice and virtue, then our theology 
 must surely drive us, under whatever disguise, to 
 empty ethics of all ethical significance, and to re- 
 duce virtue to a colourless acquiescence in the Ap- 
 pointed Order. 
 
 Systems there are which do not shrink from 
 these speculative conclusions. But their authors 
 will, I think, be found rather among those who ap- 
 proach the problem of the world from the side of a 
 particular metaphysic, than those who approach it 
 from the side of science. He who sees in God no 
 more than the Infinite Substance of which the 
 world of phenomena constitutes the accidents, or 
 who requires Him for no <jther purpose than as In-
 
 328 SCIENCE AND THEOLOGY 
 
 finite Subject, to supply the ' unity ' without which 
 the world of phenomena would be an ' unmeaninp- 
 flux of unconnected particulars,' may naturally sup- 
 pose Him to be equally related to everything, good 
 or bad, that has been, is, or can be. But I do not 
 think that the man of science is similarly situated; 
 for the doctrine of evolution has in this respect 
 made a change in his position which, curiously 
 enough, brings it closer to that occupied in this 
 matter by theology and ethics than it was in the 
 days when ' special creation ' was the fashionable 
 view. 
 
 I am not contending, be it observed, that evolu- 
 tion strengthens the evidence for theism. My point 
 rather is, that if the existence of God be assumed, 
 evolution does, to a certain extent, harmonise with 
 that belief in His ' preferential action ' which relig- 
 ion and morality alike require us to attribute to 
 Him. For whereas the material and organic world 
 was once supposed to have been created 'all of a 
 piece,' and to show contrivance on the part of its 
 Author merely by the machine-like adjustment of its 
 parts, so now science has adopted an idea which has 
 always been an essential part of the Christian view 
 of the Divine economy, has given to that idea an 
 undreamed-of extension, has applied it to the whole 
 universe of phenomena, organic and inorganic, and 
 has returned it again to theology enriched, strength- 
 ened, and developed. Can we, then, think of evolu- 
 tion in a God-created world without attributing to
 
 SCIENCE AND THEOLOGY 329 
 
 its Author the notion of purpose slowly worked 
 out ; the striving towards something which is not, 
 but which gradually becomes, and in the fulness of 
 time will be ? Surely not. But, if not, can it be 
 denied that evolution — the evolution, I mean, which 
 takes place in time, the natural evolution of science, 
 as distinguished from the dialectical evolution of 
 metaphysics — does involve something in the nature 
 of that ' preferential action ' which it is so difficult 
 to understand, yet so impossible to abandon?
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 SUGGESTIONS TOWARDS A PROVISIONAL UNIFICATION 
 
 But if I confined myself to saying that the belief 
 in a God who is not merely ' substance,' or ' sub- 
 ject,' but is, in Biblical language, ' a living God,' af- 
 fords no ground of quarrel between theology and 
 science, I should much understate my thought. I 
 hold, on the contrary, that some such presupposi- 
 tion is not only tolerated, but is actually required, 
 by science ; that if it be accepted in the case of 
 science, it can hardly be refused in the case of 
 ethics, aesthetics, or theology ; and that if it be thus 
 accepted as a general principle, applicable to the 
 whole circuit of belief, it will be found to provide 
 us with a working solution of some, at least, of the 
 difficulties with which naturalism is incompetent to 
 deal. 
 
 For what was it that lay at the bottom of those 
 difficulties ? Speaking broadly, it may be described 
 as the perpetual collision, the ineffaceable incon- 
 gruity, between the origin of our beliefs, in so far 
 as these can be revealed to us by science, and the 
 beliefs themselves. This it was that, as I showed
 
 A PROVISIONAL UNIFICATION 33 1 
 
 in the first part of this Essay, touched with the frost 
 of scepticism our ideals of conduct and our ideals 
 of beauty. This it was that, as I showed in the 
 Second Part, cut down scientific philosophy to the 
 root. And all the later discussions with which 1 
 have occupied the attention of the reader serve 
 but to emphasise afresh the inextricable confusion 
 which the naturalistic hypothesis introduces into 
 every department of practice and of speculation, by 
 refusing to allow us to penetrate beyond the phe- 
 nomenal causes by which, in the order of Nature, 
 our beliefs are produced. 
 
 Review each of these departments in turn, and, 
 in the light of the preceding discussion, compare its 
 position in a theological setting with that which it 
 necessarily occupies in a naturalistic one. Let the 
 case of science be taken first, for it is a crucial one. 
 Here, if anywhere, we might suppose ourselves in- 
 dependent of theology. Here, if anywhere, we 
 might expect to be able to acquiesce without embar- 
 rassment in the negations of naturalism. But when 
 once we have realised the scientific truth that at 
 the root of every rational process lies an irrational 
 one ; that reason, from a scientific point of view, is 
 itself a natural product ; and that the whole mate- 
 rial on which it works is due to causes, physical, 
 physiological, and social, which it neither creates 
 nor controls, we shall (as I showed just now) be 
 driven in mere self-defence to hold that, behind 
 these non-rational forces, and above them, guiding
 
 332 A PROVISIONAL UNIFICATION 
 
 them by slow degrees, and, as it were, with diffi- 
 culty, to a rational issue, stands that Supreme Rea- 
 son in whom we must thus believe, if we are to be- 
 lieve in anything. 
 
 Here, then, we are plunged at once into the 
 middle of theology. The belief in God, the attribu- 
 tion to Him of reason, and of what I have called 
 ' preferential action ' in relation to the world which 
 He has created, all seem forced upon us by the sin- 
 gle assumption that science is not an illusion, and 
 that, with the rest of its teaching, we must accept 
 what it has to say to us about itself as a natural 
 product. At no smaller cost can we reconcile the 
 origins of science with its pretentions, or relieve 
 ourselves of the embarrassments in which we are 
 involved by a naturalistic theory of Nature. But 
 evidently the admission, if once made, cannot stand 
 alone. It is impossible to refuse to ethical beliefs 
 what we have already conceded to scientific beliefs. 
 For the analogy between them is complete. Both 
 are natural products. Neither rank among their re- 
 moter causes any which share their essence. And 
 as it is easy to trace back our scientific beliefs to 
 sources which have about them nothing which is 
 rational, so it is easy to trace back our ethical be- 
 liefs to sources which have about them nothing 
 which is ethical. Both require us, therefore, to seek 
 behind these phenomenal sources for some ultimate 
 ground with which they shall be congruous ; and as 
 we have been moved to postulate a rational God in
 
 A PROVISIONAL UNIFICATION 333 
 
 the interests of science, so we can scarcely decline 
 to postulate a moral God in the interests of moral- 
 ity. 
 
 But, manifestly, those who have gone thus far 
 cannot rest here. If we are to assign a ' providen- 
 tial ' origin to the long and complex train of events 
 which have resulted in the recognition of a moral 
 law, we must embrace within the same theory those 
 sentiments and influences, without which a moi'al 
 law would tend to become a mere catalogue of com- 
 mandments, possessed, it may be, of an undisputed 
 authority, but obtaining on that account but little 
 obedience. This was the point on which I dwelt at 
 length in the first portion of this Essay. I then 
 showed, that if the pedigrees of conscience, of our 
 ethical ideals, of our capacity for admiration, for 
 sympathy, for repentance, for righteous indignation, 
 were finally to lose themselves among the accidental 
 variations on which Selection does its work, it was 
 inconceivable that they should retain their virtue 
 when once the creed of naturalism had thoroughly 
 penetrated and discoloured every mood of thought 
 and belief. But if, deserting naturalism, we regard 
 the evolutionary process issuing in these ethical re- 
 sults as an instrument for carrying out a Divine 
 purpose, the natural history of the higher sentiments 
 is seen under a wholly different light. They may 
 be due, df)ubtless they are in fact due, to the same 
 selective mechanism which produces the most cruel 
 and the most disgusting of Nature's contrivances for
 
 334 A PROVISIONAL UNIFICATION 
 
 protecting the species of some loathsome parasite. 
 Between the two cases science cannot, and natural- 
 ism will not, draw any valid distinction. But here 
 theology steps in, and by the conception of design 
 revolutionises our point of view. The most un- 
 lovely germ of instinct or of appetite to which we 
 trace back the origin of all that is most noble and of 
 good report, no longer throws discredit upon its 
 developed offshoots. Rather is it consecrated by 
 them. For if, in the region of Causation, it is wholly 
 by the earlier stages that the later are determined, 
 in the region of Design it is only through the later 
 stages that the earlier can be understood. 
 
 But if these be the consequences which flow from 
 substituting a theological for a naturalistic inter- 
 pretation of science, of ethics, and of ethical senti- 
 ments, what changes will the same process effect in 
 our conception of gesthetics? Naturalism, as we 
 saw, destroys the possibility of objective beauty — of 
 beauty as a real, persistent quality of objects ; and 
 leaves nothing but feelings of beauty on the one 
 side, and on the other a miscellaneous assortment of 
 objects, called beautiful in their moments of favour, 
 by which, through the chance operation of obscure 
 associations, at some period, and in some persons, 
 these feelings of beauty are aroused. A conclusion 
 of this kind no doubt leaves us chilled and depressed 
 spectators of our own assthetic enthusiasms. And 
 it may be that to put the scientific theory in a theo- 
 logical setting, instead of in a naturalistic one, will
 
 A PROVISIONAL UNIFICATION 335 
 
 not wholly remove the unsatisfactory effect which 
 the theory itself may leave upon the mind. And 
 yet it surely does something. If we cannot say that 
 Beauty is in any particular case an * objective ' fact, 
 in the sense in which science requires us to believe 
 that ' mass/ for example, and ' configuration,' are 
 'objective' facts, we are not precluded on that 
 account from referring our feeling of it to God, nor 
 from supposing that in the thrill of some deep emo- 
 tion we have for an instant caught a far-off reflec- 
 tion of Divine beauty. This is, indeed, my faith ; 
 and in it the differences of taste which divide man- 
 kind lose all their harshness. For we may liken 
 ourselves to the members of some endless proces- 
 sion winding along the borders of a sunlit lake. 
 Towards each individual there will shine along its 
 surface a moving lane of splendour, where the 
 ripples catch and deflect the light in his direction ; 
 while on either hand the waters, which to his neigh- 
 bour's eyes are brilliant in the sun, for him lie dull 
 and undistinguished. So may all possess a like en- 
 joyment of loveliness. So do all owe it to one un- 
 changing Source. And if there be an endless 
 variety in the immediate objects from which we 
 severally derive it, I know not, after all, that this 
 should furnish any matter for regret.
 
 336 A PROVISIONAL UNIFICATION 
 
 II 
 
 And, lastly, we come to theology, denied by 
 naturalism to be a branch of knowledge at all, but 
 whose truth we have been obliged to assume in 
 order to find a basis for the only knowledge which 
 naturalism allows. 
 
 Those who are prepared to admit that, in dealing 
 with the causes of scientific and ethical belief, the 
 theory which offers least difficulty is that which 
 assumes them to have been ' providentially ' guided, 
 are not likely to raise objections to a similar theory 
 in the case of religion. For here, at least, might we 
 expect preferential Divine intervention, supposing 
 such intervention were anywhere possible. Much 
 more, then, if it be accepted as actual in other regions 
 of belief. And this is, in fact, the ordinary view of 
 mankind. They have almost always claimed for 
 their beliefs about God that they were due to God. 
 The belief in religion has almost always carried with 
 it, in some shape or other, the belief in Inspiration. 
 
 To this rule there is, no doubt, to be found an 
 apparent exception in what is known as natural re- 
 ligion — natural religion being defined as the religion 
 to which unassisted reason may attain, in contrast 
 to that which can be reached only by the aid of rev- 
 elation. But, for my own part, I object altogether 
 to the theory underlying this distinction. I do not 
 believe that, strictly speaking, there is any such
 
 A PROVISIONAL UNIFICATION 337 
 
 thing as ' unassisted reason.' And I am sure that if 
 there be, the conclusions of ' natural religion ' are not 
 among its products. The attentive reader does not 
 require to be told that, according to the views here 
 advocated, every idea involved in such a proposition 
 as that ' There is a moral Creator and Ruler of the 
 world ' (which I may assume, for purposes of illus- 
 tration, to constitute the substance of natural re- 
 ligion) is due to a complex of causes, of which human 
 reason was not the most important; and that this 
 natural religion never would have been heard of, 
 much less have been received with approval, had it 
 not been for that traditional religion of which it 
 vainly supposes itself to be independent. 
 
 But if this way of considering the matter be ac- 
 cepted ; if we are to apply unaltered, in the case of 
 religious beliefs, the procedure already adopted in 
 the case of scientific, ethical, and aesthetic beliefs, 
 and assume for them a Cause harmonious with their 
 essential nature, we must evidently in so doing trans- 
 cend the common division between ' natural ' and 
 ' supernatural.' We cannot consent to see the 'pref- 
 erential working of Divine power' only in those 
 religious manifestations which refuse to accommo- 
 date themselves to our conception (whatever that 
 may be) of the strictly ' natural ' order of the world ; 
 nor can we deny a Divine origin to those aspects of 
 religious development whicli natural laws seem com- 
 petent to explain. The; familiar distinction, indeed, 
 between ' natural ' and ' supernatural ' coincides 
 
 22
 
 338 A PROVISIONAL UNIFICATION 
 
 neither with that between natural and spiritual, nor 
 with that between ' preferential action ' and ' non- 
 preferential,' nor with that between ' phenomenal ' 
 and ' noumenal.' It is, perhaps, less important than 
 is sometimes supposed ; and in this particular con- 
 nection, at all events, is, as it seems to me, merel}^ 
 irrelevant and confusing — a burden, not an aid, to 
 religious speculation. 
 
 For, whatever difference there may be between 
 the growth of theological knowledge and of other 
 knowledere, their resemblances are both numerous 
 and instructive. In both we note that movement 
 has been sometimes so rapid as to be revolutionary, 
 sometimes so slow as to be imperceptible. In both, 
 that it has been sometimes an advance, sometimes 
 a retrogression. In both, that it has been some- 
 times on lines permitting a long, perhaps an indefi- 
 nite, development, sometimes in directions where far- 
 ther progress seems barred for ever. In both, that 
 the higher is, from the point of view of science, 
 largely produced by the lower. In both, that, from 
 the point of view of our provisional philosophy, the 
 lower is only to be explained by the higher. In 
 both, that the final product counts among its causes 
 a vast multitude of physiological, psychological, 
 political, and social antecedents with which it has no 
 direct rational or spiritual affiliation. 
 
 How, then, can we most completely absorb these 
 facts into our theory of Inspiration? It would, no 
 doubt, be inaccurate to say that inspiration is that,
 
 A PROVISIONAL UNIFICATION 339 
 
 seen from its Divine side, which we call discovery 
 when seen from the human side. But it is not, I 
 think, inaccurate to say that every addition to knowl- 
 edge, whether in the individual or the community, 
 whether scientific, ethical, or theological, is due to a 
 co-operation between the human soul which assimi- 
 lates and the Divine power which inspires. Neither 
 acts, or, as far as we can pronounce upon such mat- 
 ters, could act, in independent isolation. For ' un- 
 assisted reason ' is, as I have already said, a fiction : 
 and pure receptivity it is impossible to conceive. 
 Even the emptiest vessel must limit the quantity 
 and determine the configuration of any liquid with 
 which it may be filled. 
 
 But because this view involves a use of the term 
 'inspiration' which, ignoring all minor distinctions, 
 extends it to every case in which the production of 
 belief is due to the 'preferential action' of Divine 
 power, it does not, of course, follow that minor dis- 
 tinctions do not exist. All I wish here to insist on 
 is, that the sphere of Divine influence in matters of 
 belief exists as a whole, and may therefore be studied 
 as a whole ; and that, not improbably, to study it as 
 a whole would prove no unprofitable preliminary to 
 any examination into the character of its more im- 
 portant parts. 
 
 So studied, it becomes evident that Inspiration, if 
 this use of the word is to be allowed, is limited to no 
 age, to no country, to no people. It is required by 
 those who learn not less than by those who teach.
 
 340 A PROVISIONAL UNIFICATION 
 
 Wherever an approach has been made to truth, 
 wherever any individual soul has assimilated some 
 old discovery, or has forced the secret of a new one^ 
 there is its co-operation to be discovered. Its work- 
 ings are to be traced not merely in the later devel- 
 opment of beliefs, but far back among their unhon- 
 oured beginnings. Its aid has been granted not 
 merely along the main line of religious progress, but 
 in the side-alleys to which there seems no issue. 
 Are we, for example, to find a full measure of inspi- 
 ration in the highest utterances of Hebrew prophet 
 or psalmist, and to suppose that the primitive relig- 
 ious conceptions common to the Semitic race had in 
 them no touch of the Divine? Hardly, if we also 
 believe that it was these primitive conceptions which 
 the ' Chosen People ' were divinely ordained to pu- 
 rify, to elevate, and to expand until they became 
 fitting elements in a religion adequate to the neces- 
 sities of a world. Are we, again, to deny any meas- 
 ure of inspiration to the ethico-religious teaching of 
 the great Oriental reformers, because there was 
 that in their general systems of doctrine which pre- 
 vented, and still prevents, these from merging as a 
 whole in the main stream of religious advance ? 
 Hardly, unless we are prepared to admit that men 
 may gather grapes from thorns or figs from thistles. 
 These things assuredly are of God ; and whatever 
 be the terms in which we choose to express our 
 faith, let us not give colour to the opinion that His 
 assistance to mankind has been narrowed down to
 
 A PROVISIONAL UNIFICATION 34 1 
 
 the sources, however unique, from which we imme- 
 diately, and consciously, draw our own spiritual 
 nourishment. 
 
 If a preference is shown by any for a more 
 limited conception of the Divine intervention in 
 matters of belief, it must, I suppose, be on one of 
 two grounds. It may, in the first place, arise out 
 of a natural reluctance to force into the same cate- 
 gory the transcendent intuitions of prophet or 
 apostle and the stammering utterances of earlier 
 faiths, clouded as these are by human ignorance 
 and marred by human sin. Things spiritually so far 
 asunder ought not, it ma}^ be thought, by any sys- 
 tem of classification, to be brought together. They 
 belong to separate worlds. They differ not merely 
 infinitely in degree, but absolutely in kind ; and a 
 risk of serious error must arise if the same term is 
 loosely and hastily applied to things which, in their 
 essential nature, lie so far apart. 
 
 Now, that there may be, or, rather, plainly are, 
 many modes in which belief is assisted by Divine 
 co-operation I have already admitted. That the 
 word ' inspiration ' may, with advantage, be con- 
 fined to one or more of these I do not desire to 
 deny. It is a question of theological phrenology, 
 on which I am not competent to pronounce ; and if 
 I have seized upon the word for the purposes of my 
 argument, it is with no desire to confound any dis- 
 tinction which ought to be preserved, but because 
 there is ntj other term w hich so pointedly expresses
 
 342 A PROVISIONAL UNIFICATION 
 
 that Divine element in the formation of beliefs on 
 which it was my business to lay stress. This, if my 
 theory be true, does, after all, exist, howsoever it 
 may be described, to the full extent which I have 
 indicated ; and though the beliefs which it assists in 
 producing differ infinitely from one another in their 
 nearness to absolute truth, the fact is not disguised, 
 nor the honour due to the most spiritually perfect 
 utterances in aught imperilled, by recognising in 
 all some marks of Divine intervention. 
 
 But, in the second place, it may be objected that 
 inspiration thus broadly conceived is incapable of 
 providing mankind with any satisfactory criterion of 
 religious truth. Since its co-operation can be traced 
 in so much that is imperfect, the mere fact of its 
 co-operation cannot in any particular case be a pro- 
 tection even against gross error. If, therefore, we 
 seek in it not merely a Divinely ordered cause of 
 belief, but also a Divinely ordered ground for believ- 
 ing, there must be some means of marking off those 
 examples of its operation which rightfully command 
 our full intellectual allegiance, from those which are 
 no more than evidences of an influence towards the 
 truth working out its purpose slowly through the 
 ages. 
 
 This is beyond dispute. Nothing that I have 
 said about inspiration in general as a source of belief 
 affects in any way the character of certain instances 
 of inspiration as an authority for belief. Nor was 
 it intended to do so ; for the problem, or group of
 
 A PROVISIONAL UNIFICATION 343 
 
 problems, which would thus have been raised is 
 altogether beside the main course of my argument. 
 They belong, not to an Introduction to Theology, 
 but to theology itself. Whether there is an authority 
 in religious matters of a kind altogether without 
 parallel in scientific or ethical matters; what, if it ex- 
 ists, is its character, and whence come its claims to 
 our obedience, are questions on which theologians 
 have differed, and still differ, and which it is quite 
 beyond my province to decide. For the subject of 
 this Essay is the 'foundations of belief,* and, as I 
 have already indicated,' the kind of authority con- 
 templated by theologians is never ' fundamental,' in 
 the sense in which that word is here used. The 
 deliverances of no organisation, of no individual, of 
 no record, can lie at the roots of belief as reason, 
 whatever they may do as cause. It is always possi- 
 ble to ask whence these claimants to authority derive 
 their credentials, what titles the orsfanisation or the 
 individual possesses to our obedience, whether the 
 records are authentic, and what is their precise im- 
 port. And the mere fact that such questions may 
 be put, and that they can neither be thrust aside as 
 irrelevant nor be answered without elaborate critical 
 and historical discussion, shows clearly enough that 
 we have no business with them here. 
 
 ' See atite, chapter on Authority and Reason.
 
 344 A PROVISIONAL UNIFICATION 
 
 III 
 
 But although it is evidently beyond the scope of 
 this work to enter upon even an elementary discus- 
 sion of theological method, it seems right that 1 
 should endeavour, in strict continuation of the argu- 
 ment of this chapter, to say something on the source 
 from which, according to Christianity, any religious 
 authority whatever must ultimately derive its ju- 
 risdiction. What I have so far tried to establish is 
 this — that the great body of our beliefs, scientific, 
 ethical, aesthetic, theological, form a more coherent 
 and satisfactory whole if we consider them in a 
 Theistic setting, than if we consider them in a Nat- 
 uralistic one. The further question, therefore, 
 inevitably suggests itself. Whether we can carry the 
 process a step further, and say that they are more 
 coherent and satisfactory if considered in a Chris- 
 tian setting than in a merely Theistic one? 
 
 The answer often given is in the negative. It is 
 always assumed by those who do not accept the 
 doctrine of the Incarnation, and it is not uncommonly 
 conceded by those who do, that it constitutes an ad- 
 ditional burden upon faith, a new stumbling-block 
 to reason. And many who are prepared to accom- 
 modate their beliefs to the requirements of (so-called) 
 ' Natural Religion,' shrink from the difhculties and 
 perplexities in which this central mystery of Revealed 
 Religion threatens to involve them. But what are
 
 A PROVISIONAL UNIFICATION 345 
 
 these difficulties? Clearly they are not scientific. 
 We are here altogether outside the region where 
 scientific ideas possess any worth, or scientific cate- 
 gories claim any authority. It may be a realm of 
 shadows, of empty dreams, and vain speculations. 
 But whether it be this, or whether it be the abiding- 
 place of the highest Reality, it evidently must be 
 explored by methods other than those provided for 
 us by the accepted canons of experimental research. 
 Even when we are endeavouring to comprehend the 
 relation of our own finite personalities to the material 
 environment with which they are so intimately con- 
 nected, we find, as we have seen, that all familiar 
 modes of explanation break down and become mean- 
 ingless. Yet we certainly exist, and presumably we 
 have bodies. If, then, we cannot devise formulae 
 which shall elucidate the familiar mystery of our 
 daily existence, we need neither be surprised nor 
 embarrassed if the unique mystery of the Christian 
 faith refuses to lend itself to inductive treatment. 
 
 But though the very uniqueness of the doctrine 
 places it beyond the ordinary range of scientific 
 criticism, the same cannot be said for the historical 
 evidence on which, in part at least, it rests. Here, 
 it will perhaps be urged, wc are on solid and familiar 
 ground. We have only got to ignore the arbitrary 
 distinction between ' sacred ' and * secular,' and apply 
 the well-understood methods of historic criticism to 
 a particular set of ancient records, in order to extract 
 from them all that is necessary to satisfy our curi-
 
 346 A PROVISIONAL UNIFICATION 
 
 osity. If they break down under cross-examination, 
 we need trouble ourselves no further about the 
 metaphysical dogmas to which they point. No im- 
 munity or privilege claimed for the subject-matter 
 of belief can extend to the merely human evidence 
 adduced in its support ; and as in the last resort, the 
 historical element in Christianity does evidently rest 
 on human testimony, nothing can be simpler than to 
 subject this to the usual scientific tests, and accept 
 with what equanimity we may any results which 
 they elicit. 
 
 But, in truth, the question is not so simple as 
 those who make use of arguments like these would 
 have us suppose. ' Historic method * has its limita- 
 tions. It is self-sufficient only within an area which 
 is, indeed, tolerably extensive, but which does not 
 embrace the universe. For, without taking any very 
 deep plunge into the philosophy of historical criti- 
 cism, we may easily perceive that our judgment as 
 to the truth or falsity of any particular historic state- 
 ment depends, partly on our estimate of the writer's 
 trustworthiness, partly on our estimate of his means 
 of information, partly on our estimate of the intrin- 
 sic probability of the facts to which he testifies. But 
 these things are not ' independent variables,' to be 
 measured separately before their results are balanced 
 and summed up. On the contrary, it is manifest 
 that, in many cases, our opinions on the trustworthi- 
 ness and competence of the witnesses is modified by 
 oar opinion as to the inherent likelihood of what
 
 A PROVISIONAL UNIFICATION 34/ 
 
 they tell us ; and that our opinion as to the inherent 
 likelihood of what they tell us may depend on 
 considerations with respect to which no historical 
 method is able to give us any conclusive informa- 
 tion. In most cases, no doubt, these questions of 
 antecedent probability have to be themselves de- 
 cided solely, or mainly, on historic grounds, and, fail- 
 ing anything more scientific, by a kind of historic 
 instinct. But other cases there are, though they be 
 rare, to whose consideration we must bring larger 
 principles, drawn from a wider theory of the world ; 
 and among these should be counted as first, both in 
 speculative interest and in ethical importance, the 
 early records of Christianity. 
 
 That this has been done, and, from their own 
 point of view, quite rightly done, by various de- 
 structive schools of New Testament criticism, every- 
 one is aware. Starting from a philosophy which for- 
 bade them to accept much of the substance of the 
 Gospel narrative, they very properly set to work to 
 devise a variety of hypotheses which would account 
 for the fact that the narrative, with all its peculiari- 
 ties, was nevertheless there. Of these hypotheses 
 there are many, and some of them have occasioned 
 an admirable display of erudite ingenuity, fruitful 
 of instruction from every point of view, and for all 
 time. But it is a great, though common, error to 
 describe these learned efforts as examples of the un- 
 biassed application of historic methods to historic 
 documents. It would be more correct to say that
 
 348 A PROVISIONAL UNIFICATION 
 
 they are endeavours, by the unstinted employment 
 of an elabolate critical apparatus, to force the testi- 
 mony of existing records into conformity with the- 
 ories on the truth or falsity of which it is for philos- 
 ophy, not history, to pronounce. What view I take of 
 the particular philosophy to which these critics make 
 appeal the reader already knows ; but our immediate 
 concern is not again to discuss the presuppositions 
 with which other people have approached the con- 
 sideration of New Testament history, but to arrive at 
 some conclusion about our own. 
 
 How, then, ought the general theory of things at 
 which we have arrived to affect our estimate of the 
 antecedent probability of the Christian views of 
 Christ? Or, if such a phrase as 'antecedent proba- 
 bility ' be thought to suggest a much greater nicety 
 of calculation than is at all possible in a case like 
 this, in what temper of mind, in what mood of ex- 
 pectation, ought our provisional philosophy to in- 
 duce us to consider the extant historic evidence for 
 the Christian story ? The reply must, I think, de- 
 pend, as I shair show in a moment, upon the view 
 we take of the ethical import of Christianity ; while 
 its ethical import, again, must depend on the degree 
 to which it ministers to our ethical needs.
 
 A PROVISIONAL UNIFICATION 349 
 
 IV 
 
 Now ethical needs, important though they are, 
 occupy no great space, as a rule, in the works of 
 ethical writers. I do not say this by way of criti- 
 cism ; for I grant that any examination into these 
 needs would have only an indirect bearing on the 
 essential subject-matter of ethical philosophy, since 
 no inquiry into their nature, history, or value would 
 help either to establish the fundamental principles 
 of a moral code or to elaborate its details. But, 
 after all, as I have said before, an assortment of 
 ' categorical imperatives,' however authoritative and 
 complete, supplies but a meagre outfit wherewith to 
 meet the storms and stresses of actual experience. 
 If we are to possess a practical system, which shall 
 not merely tell men what they ought to do, but 
 assist them to do it ; still more, if we are to regard 
 the spiritual quality of the soul as possessing an in- 
 trinsic value not to be wholly measured by the ex- 
 ternal actions to which it gives rise, much more 
 than this will be required. It will not only be 
 necessary to claim the assistance of those ethical 
 aspirations and ideals which are not less effectual 
 for their purpose though nothing corresponding to 
 them should exist, but it will also be necessary, if 
 it be possible, to meet those ethical needs which 
 must work more harm than good unless we can 
 sustain the belief that there is somewhere to be
 
 350 A PROVISIONAL UNIFICATION 
 
 found a Reality wherein they can find their satis- 
 faction. 
 
 These are facts of moral psychology which thus 
 broadly stated, nobody, I think, will be disposed to 
 dispute, although the widest differences of opinion 
 may and do prevail as to the character, number and 
 relative importance of the ethical needs thus called 
 into existence by ethical commands. It is, further, 
 certain, though more difficulty may be felt in ad- 
 mitting it, that these needs can be satisfied in many 
 cases but imperfectly, in some cases not at all, with- 
 out the aid of theology and of theological sanctions. 
 One commonly recognised ethical need, for exam- 
 ple, is for harmony between the interests of the in- 
 dividual and those of the community. In a rude 
 and limited fashion, and for a very narrow circle of 
 ethical commands, this is deliberately provided by 
 the prison and the scaffold, the whole machinery of 
 the criminal law. It is provided, with less delibera- 
 tion, but with greater delicacy of adjustment, and 
 over a wider area of duty, by the operation of pub- 
 lic opinion. But it can be provided, with any ap- 
 proach to theoretical perfection, only by a future 
 life, such as that which is assumed in more than one 
 system of religious belief. 
 
 Now the question is at once suggested by cases 
 of this kind whether, and, if so, under what limita- 
 tions, we can argue from the existence of an ethical 
 need to the reality of the conditions under which 
 alone it would be satisfied. Can we, for example.
 
 A PROVISIONAL UNIFICATION 35 1 
 
 argue from the need for some complete correspond- 
 ence between virtue and felicity, to the reality of 
 another world than this, where such a correspond- 
 ence will be completely effected ? A great ethical 
 philosopher has, in substance, asserted that we can. 
 He held that the reality of the Moral Law implied 
 the reality of a sphere where it could for ever be 
 obeyed, under conditions satisfactory to the ' Practi- 
 cal Reason ' ; and it was thus that he found a place 
 in his system for Freedom, for Immortality, and for 
 God. The metaphysical machinery, indeed, by which 
 Kant endeavoured to secure these results is of a kind 
 which we cannot employ. But we may well ask 
 whether somewhat similar inferences are not iitting 
 portions of the provisional philosophy I am endeav- 
 ouring to recommend ; and, in particular, whether 
 they do not harmonise with the train of thought we 
 have been pursuing in the course of this Chapter. 
 If the reality of scientific and of ethical knowledge 
 forces us to assume the existence of a rational and 
 moral Deity, by whose preferential assistance they 
 have gradually come into existence, must we not 
 suppose that the Power which has thus produced 
 in man the knowledge of right and wrong, and 
 has added to it the faculty of creating ethical ideals, 
 must have provided some satisfaction for the ethical 
 needs which the historical development of the spirit- 
 ual life has gradually called into existence? 
 
 Manifestly the argument in this shape is one 
 which must be used with caution. To reason purely
 
 352 A PROVISIONAL UNIFICATION 
 
 a priori from our general notions concerning the 
 working of Divine Providence to the reality of 
 particular historic events in time, or to the preva- 
 lence of particular conditions of existence through 
 eternity, would imply a knowledge of Divine mat- 
 ters which we certainly do not possess, and which, 
 our faculties remaining what they are, a revelation 
 Irom Heaven could not, I suppose, communicate to 
 us. My contention, at all events, is of a much 
 humbler kind. I confine myself to asking whether, 
 in a universe which, by hypothesis, is under moral 
 governance, there is not a presumption in favour of 
 facts or events which minister, if true, to our highest 
 moral demands ? and whether such a presumption, 
 if it exists, is not sufficient, and more than sufficient, 
 to neutralise the counter- presumption which has 
 uncritically governed so much of the criticism di- 
 rected in recent times against the historic claims 
 of Christianity? For my own part, I cannot doubt 
 that both these questions should be answered in 
 the affirmative ; and if the reader will consider the 
 variety of ways by which Christianity is, in fact, 
 fitted effectually to minister to our ethical needs, I 
 find it hard to believe that he will arrive at any dif- 
 ferent conclusion.
 
 A PROVISIONAL UNIFICATION 353 
 
 V 
 
 I need not say that no complete treatment of 
 this question is contemplated here. Any adequate 
 survey of the relation in which Christianity stands 
 to the moral needs of man would lead us into the 
 very heart of theology, and would require us to 
 consider topics altogether unsuited to these con- 
 troversial pages. Yet it may, perhaps, be found 
 possible to illustrate my meaning without penetrat- 
 ing far into territories usually occupied by theo- 
 logians; while, at the same time, the examples of 
 which I shall make use may serve to show that, 
 among the needs ministered to by Christianity, 
 are some which increase rather than diminish 
 with the growth of knowledge and the progress 
 of science ; and that this Religion is therefore 
 no mere reform, appropriate only to a vanished 
 epoch in the history of culture and civilisation, 
 but a development of theism now more necessary 
 to us than ever. 
 
 I am aware, of course, that this may seem in 
 strange discord with opinions very commonly held. 
 There are many persons who suppose that, in addi- 
 tion to any metaphysical or scientific objections to 
 Christian doctrines, there has arisen a legitimate 
 feeling of intellectual repulsion to them, directly 
 due to our more extended perception of the magni- 
 23
 
 354 A PROVISIONAL UNIFICATION 
 
 tilde and complexity of the material world. The 
 discovery of Copernicus, it has been said, is the 
 death-blow to Christianity: in other words, the 
 recognition by the human race of the insignificant 
 part which they and their planet play in the cosmic 
 drama renders the Incarnation, as it were, intrinsi- 
 cally incredible. This is not a question of logic, or 
 science, or history. No criticism of documents, no 
 haggling over ' natural ' or ' supernatural,' either 
 creates the difficulty or is able to solve it. For it 
 arises out of what I may almost call an aesthetic 
 sense of disproportion. ' What is man, that Thou 
 art mindful of him ; and the son of man, that Thou 
 visitest him ? ' is a question charged by science 
 with a weight of meaning far beyond what it could 
 have borne for the poet whose lips first uttered 
 it. And those whose studies bring perpetually to 
 their remembrance the immensity of this material 
 world, who know how brief and how utterly im- 
 perceptible is the impress made by organic life in 
 general, and by human life in particular, upon the 
 mighty forces which surround them, find it hard 
 to believe that on so small an occasion this petty 
 satellite of no very important sun has been chosen 
 as the theatre of an event so solitary and so stu- 
 pendous. 
 
 Reflection, indeed, shows that those who thus 
 argue have manifestly permitted their thoughts 
 about God to be controlled by a singular theory of 
 His relations to man and to the world, based on an
 
 A PROVISIONAL UNIFICATION 355 
 
 unbalanced consideration of the vastness of Nature. 
 They have conceived Him as moved by the mass of 
 His own works; as lost in spaces of His own crea- 
 tion. Consciously or unconsciously, they have fallen 
 into the absurdity of supposing that He considers 
 His creatures, as it were, with the eyes of a con- 
 tractor or a politician ; that He measures their 
 value according- to their physical or intellectual im- 
 portance ; and that He sets store by the number 
 of square miles they inhabit or the foot-pounds of 
 energy they are capable of developing. In truth, 
 the inference they should have drawn is of precise- 
 ly the opposite kind. The very sense of the place 
 occupied in the material universe by man the in- 
 telligent animal, creates in man the moral being a 
 new need for Christianity, which, before science 
 measured out the heavens for us, can hardly be 
 said to have existed. Metaphysically speaking, our 
 opinions on the magnitude and complexity of the 
 natural world should, indeed, have no bearing on 
 our conception of God's relation, either to us or 
 to it. Though we supposed the sun to have been 
 created some six thousand years ago, and to be 
 'about the size of the Peloponnesus,' yet the funda- 
 mental problems concerning time and space, matter 
 and spirit, God and man, would not on that account 
 have to be formally restated. But then, we are not 
 creatures of pure reason; and those who desire the 
 assurance of an intimate and effectual relation with 
 the Divine life, and who look to this for strength
 
 356 A PROVISIONAL UNIFICATION 
 
 and consolation, find that the progress of scientific 
 knowledge makes it more and more difficult to ob- 
 tain it by the aid of any merely speculative theism. 
 The feeling of trusting dependence which was easy 
 for the primitive tribes, who regarded themselves 
 as their God's peculiar charge, and supposed Him 
 in some special sense to dwell among them, is not 
 easy for us ; nor does it tend to become easier. We 
 can no longer share their naive anthropomorphism. 
 We search out God with eyes grown old in study- 
 ing Nature, with minds fatigued by centuries of 
 metaphysic, and imaginations glutted with material 
 infinities. It is in vain that we describe Him as im- 
 manent in creation, and refuse to reduce Him to an 
 abstraction, be it deistic or be it pantheistic. The 
 overwhelming force and regularity of the great nat- 
 ural movements dull the sharp impression of an 
 ever-present Personality deeply concerned in our 
 spiritual well-being. He is hidden, not revealed, in 
 the multitude of phenomena, and as our knowledge 
 of phenomena increases. He retreats out of ail real- 
 ised connection with us farther and yet farther into 
 the illimitable unknown. 
 
 Then it is that, through the aid of Christian doc- 
 trine, we are saved from the distorting influences 
 of our own discoveries. The Incarnation throws 
 the whole scheme of things, as we are too easily apt 
 to represent it to ourselves, into a different and far 
 truer proportion. It abruptly changes the vv^hole 
 scale on which we might be disposed to measure
 
 A PROVISIONAL UNIFICATION 357 
 
 the magnitudes of the universe. What we should 
 otherwise think great, we now perceive to be rela- 
 tively small. What we should otherwise think 
 trifling, we now know to be immeasurably impor- 
 tant. And the change is not only morally needed, 
 but is philosophically justified. Speculation by it- 
 self should be sufficient to convince us that, in the 
 sight of a righteous God, material grandeur and 
 moral excellencies are incommensurable quantities ; 
 and that an infinite accumulation of the one cannot 
 compensate for the smallest diminution of the other. 
 Yet I know not whether, as a theistic speculation, 
 this truth could effectually maintain itself against 
 the brute pressure of external Nature. In the world 
 looked at by the light of simple theism, the evi- 
 dences of God's material power lie about us on 
 every side, daily added to by science, universal, 
 overwhelming. The evidences of His moral inter- 
 est have to be anxiously extracted, grain by grain, 
 through the speculative analysis of our moral nature. 
 Mankind, however, are not given to speculative 
 analysis ; and if it be desirable that they should 
 be enabled to obtain an imaginative grasp of this 
 great truth ; if they need to have brought home to 
 them that, in the sight of God, the stability of the 
 heavens is of less importance than the moral growth 
 of a human si)irit, I know not how this end could be 
 more completely attained than by the Christian doc- 
 trine of the Incarnation. 
 
 A somewhat similar train of thought is suggested
 
 358 A PROVISIONAL UNIFICATION 
 
 by the progress of one particular branch of scien- 
 tific investigation. Mankind can never have been 
 ignorant of the dependence of mind on body. The 
 feebleness of infancy, the decay of age, the effects 
 of sickness, fatigue, and pain, are facts too obvious 
 and too insistent ever to have passed unnoticed. 
 But the movement of discovery has prodigiously 
 emphasised our sense of dependence on matter. We 
 now know that it is no loose or variable connection 
 which ties mind to body. There may, indeed, be 
 neural changes which do not issue in consciousness ; 
 but there is no consciousness, so far as accepted 
 observations and experiments can tell us, which is 
 not associated with neural changes. Looked at, 
 therefore, from the outside, from the point of view 
 necessarily adopted by the biologist, the spiritual 
 life seems, as it were, but an intermittent phospho- 
 rescence accompanying the cerebral changes in 
 certain highly organised mammals. And science, 
 through countless channels, with irresistible force 
 drives home to each one of us the lesson that we are 
 severally bound over in perpetual servitude to a 
 body for whose existence and qualities we have no 
 responsibility whatever. 
 
 As the reader is well aware, views like these 
 will not stand critical examination. Of all creeds, 
 materialism is the one which, looked at from the 
 inside — from the point of view of knowledge and 
 the knowing Self— is least capable of being philo- 
 sophically defended, or even coherently stated.
 
 A PROVISIONAL UNIFICATION 359 
 
 Nevertheless, the burden of the body is not, in 
 practice, to be disposed of by any mere process of 
 critical analysis. From birth to death, without 
 pause or respite, it encumbers us on our path. We 
 can never disentangle ourselves from its meshes, 
 nor divide with it the responsibility for our joint 
 performances. Conscience may tell us that we 
 ougJit to control it, and that we can. But science, 
 hinting that, after all, we are but its product and its 
 plaything, receives ominous support from our ex- 
 periences of mankind. Philosophy may assure us 
 that the account of body and mind given by mate- 
 rialism is neither consistent nor intelligible. Yet 
 body remains the most fundamental and all-pervad- 
 ing fact with which mind has got to deal, the one 
 from which it can least easily shake itself free, the 
 one that most complacently lends itself to every 
 theory destructive of high endeavour. 
 
 Now, what is wanted here is not abstract specu- 
 lation or negative dialectic. These, indeed, may 
 lend us their aid, but they are not very powerful 
 allies in this particular species of warfare. They 
 can assure us, with a well-grounded confidence, that 
 materialism is wrcjng, but they have (as I think) 
 nothing satisfactory to put in its place, and cannot 
 pretend to any theoretic explanation which shall 
 cover all the facts. What we need, then, is some- 
 thing that shall appeal to men of flesh and blood, 
 struggling with the temptations and discourage- 
 ments which ilesh and blood is heir to : confused
 
 
 
 6o A PROVISIONAL UNIFICATION 
 
 and baffled by theories of heredity: sure that the 
 physiological view represents at least one aspect of 
 the truth ; not sure how any larger and more con- 
 soling truth can be welded on to it; yet swayed 
 towards the materialist side less, it may be, by 
 materialist reasoning than by the inner confirma- 
 tion which a humiliating experience gives them of 
 their own subjection to the body. 
 
 What support does the belief in a Deity inef- 
 fably remote from all human conditions bring to 
 men thus hesitating whether they are to count 
 themselves as beasts that perish, or among the Sons 
 of God ? What bridge can be found to span the 
 immeasurable gulf which separates Infinite Spirit 
 from creatures who seem little more than physi- 
 ological accidents? What faith is there, other than 
 the Incarnation, which will enable us to realise that, 
 however far apart, they are not hopelessly divided ? 
 The intellectual perplexities which haunt us in 
 that dim region where mind and matter meet may 
 not be thus allayed. But they who think with me 
 that, though it is a hard thing for us to believe that 
 we are made in the likeness of God, it is yet a very 
 necessary thing, will not be anxious to deny that an 
 efTectual trust in this great truth, a full satisfaction 
 of this ethical need, are among the natural fruits of 
 a Christian theory of the world. 
 
 One more topic there is, of the same family as 
 those with which we have just been dealing, to 
 which, before concluding, I must briefly direct the
 
 A PROVISIONAL UNIFICATION 36 1 
 
 reader's attention. I have already said something 
 about what is known as the ' problem of evil,' and 
 the immemorial difficulty which it throws in the way 
 of a completely coherent theory of the world on a 
 religious or moral basis. I do not suggest now 
 that the doctrine of the Incarnation supplies any 
 philosophic solution of this difficulty. I content 
 myself with pointing out that the difficulty is much 
 less oppressive under the Christian than under any 
 simpler form of Theism ; and that though it may re- 
 tain undiminished whatever speculative force it pos- 
 sesses, its moral grip is loosened, and it no longer 
 parches up the springs of spiritual hope or crushes 
 moral aspiration. 
 
 For where precisely does the difficulty lie ? It 
 lies in the belief that an all-powerful Deity has 
 chosen out of an infinite, or at least an unknown, 
 number of possibilities to create a world in which 
 pain is a prominent, and apparently an ineradicable, 
 element. His action on this view is, so to speak, 
 gratuitous. He might have done otherwise ; He 
 has done thus. He might have created sentient 
 beings capable of nothing but happiness ; He has in 
 fact created them prone to misery, and subject by 
 their very constitution and circumstances to extreme 
 possibilities of physical pain and mental affliction. 
 How can One of Whom this can be said excite our 
 love? How can He claim our obedience? How 
 can He be a fitting object of praise, reverence, and 
 worship? So runs the familiar argument, accepted
 
 362 A PROVISIONAL UNIFICATION 
 
 by some as a permanent element in their melancholy 
 philosophy ; wrung from others as a cry of anguish 
 under the sudden stroke of bitter experience. 
 
 This reasoning is in essence an explication of 
 what is supposed to be involved in the attribute of 
 Omnipotence ; and the sting of its conclusion lies in 
 the inferred indifference of God to the sufferings of 
 His creatures. There are, therefore, two points at 
 which it may be assailed. We may argue, in the 
 first place, that in dealing with subjects so far above 
 our reach, it is in general the height of philosophic 
 temerity to squeeze out of every predicate the last 
 significant drop it can apparently be forced to yield ; 
 or drive all the arguments it suggests to their ex- 
 treme logical conclusions. And, in particular, it 
 may be urged that it is erroneous, perhaps even 
 unmeaning, to say that the universality of Omnip- 
 otence includes the power to do that which is ir- 
 rational ; and that, without knowing the Whole, we 
 cannot say of any part whether it is rational or 
 not. 
 
 These are metaphysical considerations which, so 
 long as they are used critically, and not dogmatically, 
 negatively, not positively, seem to me to have force. 
 But there is a second line of attack, on which it is 
 more my business to insist. I have already pointed 
 out that ethics cannot permanently flourish side by 
 side with a creed which represents God as indifferent 
 to pain and sin ; so that, if our provisional philoso- 
 phy is to include morality within its circuit (and
 
 A PROVISIONAL UNIFICATION 363 
 
 what harmony of knowledge would that be which 
 did not ?), the conclusions which apparently follow 
 from the co-existence of Omnipotence and of Evil 
 are not to be accepted. Yet this speculative reply 
 is, after all, but a fair-weather argument ; too abstract 
 easily to move mankind at large, too frail for the sup- 
 port, even of a philosopher, in moments of extrem- 
 ity. Of what use is it to those who, under the stress 
 of sorrow, are permitting themselves to doubt the 
 goodness of God, that such doubts must inevitably 
 tend to wither virtue at the root ? No such conclu- 
 sion will frighten them. They have already almost 
 reached it. Of what worth, they cry, is virtue in a 
 world where sufferings like theirs fall alike on the 
 just and on the unjust? For themselves, they know 
 only that they are solitary and abandoned ; victims 
 of a Power too strong for them to control, too callous 
 for them to soften, too far for them to reach, deaf to 
 supplication, blind to pain. Tell them, with certain 
 theologians, that their misfortunes are explained and 
 justified by an hereditary taint ; tell them, with certain 
 philosophers, that, could they understand the world 
 in its completeness, their agony would show itself 
 an element necessary to the harmony of the Whole, 
 and they will think you are mocking them. What- 
 ever be the worth of speculations like these, it is not 
 in the moments when they are most required that 
 they come effectually to our rescue. What is needed 
 is such a living faith in God's relation to Man as 
 shall leave no place for that helpless resentment
 
 364 A PROVISIONAL UNIFICATION 
 
 against the appointed Order so apt to I'ise within us 
 at the sight of undeserved pain. And this faith is 
 possessed by those who vividly realise the Christian 
 form of Theism. For they worship One who is no 
 remote contriver of a universe to whose ills He is 
 indifferent. If they suffer, did He not on their 
 account suffer also? If suffering falls not always on 
 the most guilty, was He not innocent? Shall they 
 cry aloud that the world is ill-designed for their 
 convenience, when He for their sakes subjected 
 Himself to its conditions? It is true that beliefs 
 like these do not in any narrow sense resolve our 
 doubts nor provide us with explanations. But they 
 give us something better than many explanations. 
 For they minister, or rather the Reality behind them 
 ministers, to one of our deepest ethical needs : to a 
 need which, far from showing signs of diminution, 
 seems to grow with the growth of civilisation, and 
 to touch us ever more keenly as the hardness of an 
 earlier time dissolves away. 
 
 Here, then, on the threshold of Christian Theol- 
 ogy, I bring my task to a conclusion. I feel, on 
 looking back over the completed work, even more 
 strongly than I felt during its progress, how hard 
 was the task I have undertaken, and how far beyond 
 my powers successfully to accomplish. For I have 
 aimed at nothing less than to show, within a reason-
 
 A PROVISIONAL UNIFICATION 365 
 
 able compass and in a manner to be understood by 
 all, how, in face of the complex tendencies which 
 sway this strange age of ours, we may best draw to- 
 gether our beliefs into a comprehensive unity which 
 shall possess at least a relative and provisional sta- 
 bility. In so bold an attempt I may well have failed. 
 Yet, whatever be the particular weaknesses and de- 
 fects which mar the success of my endeavours, three 
 or four broad principles emerge from the discussion, 
 the essential importance of which I find it impos- 
 sible to doubt, whatever errors I may have made 
 in their application. 
 
 1. It seems beyond question that any system 
 which, with our present knowledge and, it may 
 be, our existing faculties, we are able to construct 
 must suffer from obscurities, from defects of proof, 
 and from incoherences. Narrow it down to bare 
 science — and no one has seriously proposed to re- 
 duce it further — you will still find all three, and in 
 plenty. 
 
 2. No unification of belief of the slightest the- 
 oretical value can take place on a purely scien- 
 tific basis — on a basis, I mean, of induction from 
 particular experiences, whether ' external ' or * inter- 
 nal.' 
 
 3. No philosophy or theory of knowledge (epis- 
 temology) can be satisfactory which does not find 
 room within it for the quite obvious, but not suffi- 
 ciently considered fact that, so far as empirical 
 science can tell us anything about the matter, most
 
 366 A PROVISIONAL UNIFICATION 
 
 of the proximate causes of belief, and all its ultimate 
 causes, are non-rational in their character. 
 
 4. No unification of beliefs can be practically 
 adequate which does not include ethical beliefs as 
 well as scientific ones; nor which refuses to count 
 among ethical beliefs, not merely those which have 
 immediate reference to moral commands, but those 
 also which make possible moral sentiments, ideals 
 and aspirations, and which satisfy our ethical needs. 
 Any system which, when worked out to its legiti- 
 mate issues, fails to effect this object can afford no 
 permanent habitation for the spirit of man. 
 
 To enforce, illustrate, and apply these principles 
 has been the main object of the preceding pages. 
 How far I have succeeded in showing that the least 
 incomplete unification open to us must include the 
 fundamental elements of Theology, and of Chris- 
 tian Theology, I leave it for others to deter- 
 mine ; repeating only the conviction, more than 
 once expressed in the body of this Essay, that it is 
 not explanations which survive, but the things 
 which are explained ; not theories, but the things 
 about which we theorise; and that, therefore, no 
 failure on my part can imperil the great truths, be 
 they religious, ethical, or scientific, whose interde- 
 pendence I have endeavoured to establish. 
 
 THE END , <,/7^
 
 
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